


Gifts

by Weconqueratdawn



Series: A Luxury of Punishments [3]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Comeplay, Dom Hannibal, Dom/sub, Domestic, Face-Sitting, First Christmas, Hand Feeding, Hannibal is Not a Cannibal, Illustrated, Kink Negotiation, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Moving In Together, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Paddling, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Power Exchange, Praise Kink, References to Depression, Rimming, Rope Bondage, Safe Sane and Consensual, Scent Kink, Service Kink, Service Submission, Sexual Roleplay, Shaving, Shibari, Spanking, Sub Will Graham, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-14 00:34:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9148879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weconqueratdawn/pseuds/Weconqueratdawn
Summary: Will has holiday depression. Hannibal wants to try out chastity kink. Somehow it all works out.A sequel toCathexis, an AU where (healthy) BDSM dynamics replace murder and cannibalism, and everyone's good to each other.An box, unadorned except for a black ribbon, was placed on the table in front of Will.“A gift?” Will asked, noting Hannibal’s careful language. “Or something else?”“Much as I like giving you things, I like taking away too,” Hannibal said. “There is a sadistic pleasure in denying things which are wanted.”A smile tugged at Will’s lips. “So, with this box, are you indulging me or yourself?”Hannibal slid the box closer to him. “Let's find out.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My rather late Christmas fic - oops :)
> 
> This will make much more sense if you've already read [Cathexis](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6220945/chapters/14253013).
> 
> I will be posting this over the course of the week - it's nearly all written :)
> 
> Illustrated by the utterly marvellous [TheSeaVoices](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeaVoices/). The illustration below really belongs in Chapter 3 but I couldn't resist posting it now!

A surprisingly warm and homely smell greeted Will at the door. He dropped his keys into the bowl and stowed his jacket in the cloakroom. It was his old one, for outdoor work on cold days. It was creased and stained but he hung it on a hanger anyway, next to Hannibal’s pristine wool overcoat. He followed his nose to the kitchen, where Hannibal bent with careful precision over a cake tin.

Will waited while the cake was skewered and inspected for uncooked batter.

“Baking?” he asked. “Surely nothing as ordinary as a cake.”

Hannibal slid the tin neatly back into the oven and set a timer. “This is a Christmas cake,” he said. “A variation on a Victorian recipe. Glazed and crowned with dried fruits and nuts, it will be a perfect centrepiece for the dinner party I am planning for the holidays.”

“It’s a little early to be thinking about Christmas. Only just got Thanksgiving over with.” Will winced a little, aware how like his dad he sounded.

“The cake needs to mature,” Hannibal said. “Fed at regular intervals with brandy.”

“Right,” Will said. “Well, good for it.”

At his tone, Hannibal untied his apron and put it aside, finally turning from the oven to look at him.

Guilt prickled hot over Will. Hannibal was looking forward to spending their first Christmas together, in a house they both equally belonged. It was a perfectly reasonable and ordinary thing to wish for. He was going to have to spoil it, but he didn’t have to make it worse.

He yanked his hand from the back of his neck, and made himself clench and unclench it a few times.

“I don’t mean to be-” Will sighed, shrugged his shoulders uselessly. “I've got some news you're not going to like.”

Hannibal came over to him, to stand close. He encircled Will’s wrists gently, finger and thumb held just over the pulse point. Will let out a deep breath.

“I met with Wade at the house this morning,” said Will. There was little point in dragging it out. “It's not going to be ready until sometime in the new year. End of January, probably.”

Something tightened in Hannibal's face, at the corners of his mouth and eyes. He lowered his gaze to Will’s throat, to the thin strip of leather knotted around it. He drew his thumb along its roughened edge, then up to Will’s jaw, his chin. “Are they sure?” 

“Yeah,” Will said. “Sorry, I know you’re disappointed.”

Will leaned into him, pressing his cheek against Hannibal’s, sliding his palms over the crisp cotton across his back. He smelled warm and buttery, of citrus and rich brandy.

“They found a small subsidence problem.” Will said. “Before they can deliver the frame for the extension, that side of the house needs to be shored up. There’ll be complications with the drainage and utilities and things. It should just be habitable by the time winter really hits, but only just.” Over Hannibal’s shoulder, the bespoke kitchen and its exacting finishes was laid out in all its impeccable glory, mocking him. “And by habitable I mean watertight, not, well… Not ready to live in, not even for just the holidays.”

Behind them, the timer rang out shrilly. Hannibal went to shut it off then swept up his apron and tied it on again. The cake came out of the oven in a swirl of steam and mixed spice. It was a burnished mahogany, lusciously dense. Hannibal tested it again and, this time satisfied, picked up the brandy bottle waiting on the side.

“It can't be helped,” he said finally, as he drizzled the cake with brandy.

Will drew near and wrapped his arms round Hannibal, feeling pained on his behalf.

“There'll be next Christmas,” Will said. “By then we'll have lived there for months, moved in properly. Everything will be done. It will look and feel like our house.” It sounded blatantly placating, but there was nothing else he could say. “And we’ll still be together this year.”

Hannibal twisted round in Will’s arms to kiss him, softly nudging his mouth open. He tasted faintly of bitter molasses.

“You are right,” Hannibal agreed. “We will. Just the two of us.”

“We’ll just have to spend it here instead,” Will said. “It’s only a little longer.”

“I confess I am impatient,” said Hannibal. “To have you with me all the time. To share the same space, the same everything.”

This time Will’s smile came easily. “Me too.”

*

By the time Will got home it was late. The dog sitter had been and gone, leaving behind her a pack of tired-out dogs and a few lighted table lamps. Will crouched in the midst of lazily wagging tails and nudging wet noses, pleased to see them.

“Soon,” he promised, scratching Buster's ear. “Just a few more weeks. Then I won't be away as much.”

Greetings given, he headed for the kitchen and the dogs trotted back to their beds near the fire. He poured a nightcap and went to join them, flopping down into an armchair to watch their warm furry bodies settle into sleep. It was peaceful; exactly like it always had been, though easy now to picture Hannibal sitting across from him, his legs crossed elegantly at the ankle. Both of them would watch the crackling fire, their silence warm and soft as candlelight. But it didn’t seem to matter how often Hannibal stayed over or how much Will liked to have him there, still no permanent trace of him remained. The room, the whole house, told only of Will. Hannibal’s presence left with him, at the end of every visit.

Will had for years deliberately built a fortress around himself and it was disquieting that even Hannibal could not fully penetrate it. The walls had been breached, partially dismantled, yet on occasion their ruins made themselves felt, tripping Will up when he least expected it. Increasingly, he found his little house was a stronghold for a past self, one he was ready to leave behind. There the person he had been before Hannibal lingered, quietly disbelieving and anxious. Certain that one day he would need to retreat back to isolated safety; that inevitably, things would fall apart. That he would not be enough to prevent it.

He knew this was nothing but whisperings from places deep in his history - the same which spoke to him of abandonment and taught him not to expect too much. A familiar companion, and one he did not expect to conquer overnight. Finally living together, somewhere new, would be a happy relief. Will had looked forward to it for months and it had seen him through meeting many patronising realtors and viewings which were hopeless wastes of time. And after had come the endless waiting - for legalities, for architect’s plans, and now for building works.

Which was why, when he’d learned the house wouldn’t be ready for the holidays, Will had been surprised to immediately know that Hannibal’s dismay would be far greater than his own. After some reflection he’d decided that moving in, and all the negotiations that would entail, would be better done without the added pressure of the holiday season.

It wasn’t a time of year he relished. Usually he coped by bedding down and ignoring it until it was over. But how disappointed Hannibal would be in him meant he couldn’t say so.

*

Will's old therapy appointment on Wednesday evenings remained a fixture. He was expected for dinner at seven-thirty promptly, even though Hannibal often had a feast of another kind planned before the entrée was served.

Now he had a key there was no need to knock, but after he let himself in Will remained in the entranceway and waited for Hannibal. When he appeared he was silent and swift, just a brush of lips on the back of Will’s neck and a murmured greeting in his ear. Will turned to face him, raising his chin so Hannibal could buckle his collar into place. It still sparked something deep in him, a delicious feeling of love and belonging.

The thin strip of leather he wore around his neck had been his own idea - something he could wear always but would pass as commonplace. Just a plain loop, tied so it could be adjusted to sit high around his throat or loosened enough to lay hidden under his collar. Hannibal had placed it around his neck like a wedding band, damp-eyed and with hands slightly less sure than usual. Will had not taken it off since.

His other collar was reserved for times like this evening, when their intimacy was more structured and Will's submission was foremost. Tonight, he was directed straight into the dining room where a glass of wine already waited at the table. Smiling to himself, Will obeyed the silent instruction. _Sit, enjoy, let me take care of you._

When he entered, Hannibal glowed fervent and fierce approval at him. “My favourite guest to have at my table,” he said, as he placed a plate in front of Will. “I hope you will still allow me the indulgence when the table is ours.”

“I indulge you in indulging me,” Will said. “Isn't that how this works?” He considered the plate of foie gras, garnished with berries and dark trailing feathers. “Though I suspect the dinner table will in some measure always be yours.”

Hannibal sat down and smiled genially. “One day I will get you to accept indulgence for its own sake. But for now I can be content with your generosity of spirit.”

“If you were to manage that, your influence would be diminished. I need you to hand out my pleasure as much as I need you to hand out my pain.” Will took a bite. Naturally, it was delicious.

“I would still choose and administer your indulgences, pleasurable or not,” Hannibal said. “But to admit to experiencing them purely for your own enjoyment would be something new.”

“You're not convinced by my asceticism?” Will asked.

“I think you are very good at getting what you want, without having to own your desires. More than anything you enjoy being taken care of. Initially it was intense sensation you sought from me - pain, followed by release - and you did not expect where it ended nor how much you wanted it. Someone to tend your wounds, and cherish them.”

“Neither did you,” Will countered. “Fuck, that shouldn't sound so romantic.”

Hannibal took his hand and kissed it. “I have come to terms with my desires, with my delightfully unexpected love.”

“And I haven't?”

“I think you struggle with the idea of happiness.”

“Whereas _you_ never have,” Will replied.

“Never,” Hannibal agreed. “The opportunity for happiness should be taken whenever and wherever it presents. One doesn't know which will be the final chance.”

Will dropped his eyes to the table, to the slender stem of the wineglass in front of him, and thought back to the first time he'd eaten at Hannibal's table. It had been easy to accept the baroque display of his hospitality as _just how Hannibal liked things._ And he did like things that way, that was true. But there had been shifts along the way; the presentation had been tailored. Will had become his audience, the only one which truly mattered.

“I am happy, you do know that, right?” Will said. “With you. Because of you.”

Hannibal’s fingers squeezed his hand, then released it. “I do, yes. And on that note, I have something for you.”

An box, unadorned except for a black ribbon, was placed on the table in front of Will.

“A gift?” Will asked, noting Hannibal’s careful language. “Or something else?”

“Much as I like giving you things, I like taking away too,” Hannibal said. “There is a sadistic pleasure in denying things which are wanted.”

A smile tugged at Will’s lips. “So, with this box, are you indulging me or yourself?”

Hannibal slid the box closer to him. “Let's find out.”

Will pulled at the ribbon; it unravelled easily into one long strip of satin. Feeling like he was on stage, he took the lid off and looked inside. And then frowned and looked again. “You can't really be serious?”

“I have promised to teach you discipline and self-control many times,” Hannibal said. “And I have not yet succeeded. This is another avenue to explore.”

In the box lay a moulded piece plastic obviously designed to fit over a flaccid penis. From its top dangled a padlock.

Will stared at him. “Rather contrary to the concept of indulging me, don't you think?”

“Anything in excess can be indulgent, if done correctly. Even denial,” Hannibal said. “And perhaps we will find your focus might change - you might seek other things from me to replace what you've lost.”

“Lost?” Will looked back at the chastity device. The smooth plastic looked clinical and unforgiving. He couldn't imagine wearing it. “What am I losing, exactly?”

“Nothing yet,” Hannibal said. “All I ask is you take it home and think about it.”

Will narrowed his eyes. “I hate it when you seem reasonable.”

Hannibal looked smugly amused. “If I told you to put it on, it would be much simpler, wouldn't it? You’d complain but you’d do it. Because I wanted you to, and, in the end, because I wanted you to, you would want to also.”

“But you must still want to, even if you send me home with it. Or you wouldn’t have given it to me.”

“I don’t know what I would like from this experiment,” Hannibal admitted. “The cage in that box is intended for full-time wear. Is that really what I would like? Do I want to keep you locked away or do I just like the idea that I could?”

“You're curious what I’ll do. What I'll _let_ you do.” He pulled the box closer and took it out. Underneath he found the fitting instructions and unfolded them. They looked complicated. “When you say an avenue to be explored, you really mean that.”

“Yes,” Hannibal agreed. “We may quickly discover it is not for us.”

“So what are you proposing? Right now?”

“Take it home, try it on, whatever you like. Then tell me what you discovered about yourself.”

Will sighed and knew that was exactly what he was going to do.

*

The box sat on his side table for a few days, unopened. Will glared at it every time it fell within his field of vision. He knew he was waiting for Hannibal to ask about it, to force the issue in some way. Infuriatingly, he didn't, which meant the choice of what to do about it was left entirely to Will. It was a very deliberate and obvious ploy, and it rankled Will even more than the box itself.

Theoretically, he could just return it to Hannibal with a shrug and explain it wasn't for him. He hadn't actually agreed to do anything other than think it over. But that would be disingenuous of him. Hannibal's wishes deserved proper consideration - it was part of the commitment they’d made each other. The very least he could do was try it on, at home, alone, before rejecting the idea.

His reluctance at least partly stemmed from an ill-advised late-night search on his laptop. He'd known it was a bad idea before he'd even started but thought other people's words might help explain the appeal. Instead, the screen had shouted things like _master, slave, sir, boy_ and _locked_ at him. There had been a couple of useful bits of information hidden away in between but overall he'd not particularly enjoyed the experience. It was difficult to relate his connection to Hannibal to such lurid clips and images, all entirely devoid of context and personality.

The other thing which bothered him was the suggestion of chastisement - to be restricted, _forbidden,_ from getting an erection seemed infantilising and diminishing. Certainly there were plenty of websites which agreed with this point of view, if the number of smooth-skinned collared ‘boys’ coupled with overly-muscled thick-necked men in leather were anything to go by. It didn’t sit comfortably with the peculiar kind of balance they’d struck, and it lacked Hannibal’s finesse.

Briefly, Will amused himself by picturing him on his knees and clinging to Hannibal’s legs, begging ‘Master’ dramatically for release. Maybe he’d be wearing a loincloth, in true cheesecake fashion. He laughed, not even needing to imagine the expression of horror Hannibal would wear, and pulled out his phone.

_If I ever call you Master, please assume I'm being sarcastic._

Hannibal’s reply came back quickly. _I usually do. I assume you’ve been giving my gift some thought?_

_Haven’t tried it on yet. Done some horrifying research. But yes._

_Maybe you can give me an update next weekend. Or do you need longer?_

The weekend just past had slid by with no mention or discussion of it, not even any veiled allusions. It was looking like their mid-week dinner the next day would follow the same pattern. If Will wanted to cross his living room without frowning at inanimate objects any time soon he was going to have to face up to it. Hannibal’s patience was almost limitless, and he was showing every sign of exercising it to its fullest.

_I don’t know yet. But I will let you know tonight._

_As you wish, tesoro. Take as long as you need._

Will rolled his eyes and looked at the clock. He had about an hour free until the dogs’ evening routine would kick in, when there would be dinners to be made and walks to be taken.

 _Yeah, okay - thanks for your generosity, ‘Master’_.

_*_

Upstairs, Will sat on his bed and looked at the instructions again. He'd cleared out the junk he'd forgotten he left there and moved his furniture in a couple of months ago. As part of their transition to the new house, the dogs needed to get used to him sleeping in another room. Once there they would have the run of the ground floor but would be barred from upstairs, where Hannibal's breakables could reside in safety.

The advice online had been that it could take weeks to find the best fit, but that was for long-term or even permanent wear. Will reminded himself firmly he was just trying it out - maybe only for a couple of minutes. The cage which would go over his penis was a tube of opaque plastic, solid apart from small holes for ventilation and urination. It attached to a ring which fastened behind the scrotum - when these parts locked together there was nowhere for his dick to go if he got hard. All of it was roughly the same pale pink tone as his skin.

In a final flourish of chastity, the padlock went on last.

He grabbed the lube and set to work. It helped the tube slide on and was supposed to prevent chafing. It took a little time to assemble and, when he was finished, it felt so strange it was difficult to tell if he'd got it on right. The whole thing added extra weight to his penis and squashed his balls forward - there was certainly no danger he'd forget he was wearing it. Experimentally, he tried touching the cage but could feel nothing. Everything, excepting his balls, was securely out of reach.

Next, he stripped off to stand in front of the full-length mirror by the wardrobe. It didn't look as monstrous as it felt but it was still odd. Shiny pale pink plastic instead of a soft limp dick. He couldn't help but wonder what Hannibal would see if he were here - would be see one of those smooth obedient boys? Is that what he wanted? He reached for his phone again.

 _What if I wanted to give you an update now?_ Will paced impatiently about the room as he waited for Hannibal’s reply. The cage bobbed stupidly about with each step.

_Are you looking for my approval, Will?_

_I want to talk about some of this now, rather than wait._

There was a short pause before his phone began to vibrate with an incoming call.

“You have it on?” Hannibal said.

Will swallowed. “Yes.” He wasn't actually sure what he needed to say so urgently, just that he wanted to hear Hannibal's voice. Wanted some kind of guidance.

“Tell me how it feels.”

“Alien. Noticeable.” Will looked down at it, frowning. “It’s not uncomfortable, but I haven’t worn it for long. Do you want to see?”

“No, not yet. How do you feel about yourself, now you are wearing it?”

Automatically, his mind offered him a few suggestion - _ridiculous, vulnerable._ “I don’t think it looks particularly good,” he said, instead. “It’s not like other things you’ve had me do. Not very… aesthetic.”

“That is a matter of opinion,” Hannibal said. “That’s important to you, isn’t it? You like feeling desirable. You take more care of your appearance than you used to.”

It was impossible for Will to deny that, after all the things they’d done together. But that didn’t mean it was easy to admit to, especially outside of the erotically-charged moments Hannibal specialised in creating. “I suppose,” he said, sounding more grudging than he would have liked.

“It is what it represents,” Hannibal said. “Your sexuality would be a gift. You would be handing control of it to me, temporarily.”

“Fuck,” Will said. He slumped sideways against the wall, its painted surface chill under his shoulder. Trust Hannibal to suddenly decide to view Will’s penis as a gift just for him. “Okay. Um, how temporarily?”

“I would suggest we devote a weekend to the experiment,” Hannibal said. “But I will be guided by you in how that should happen - for instance, the length of time you are comfortable wearing it and how often.”

“And how am I supposed to know that?” Will asked.

“You will continue to wear it, beginning with frequent small doses. Maybe trying it out in public too. And you will continue to provide me with updates, until we decide to try it together. Or not, perhaps.”

“Right,” Will said. “And- I mean, there’s nothing else you want to instruct me in? Nothing you want to… forbid?”

“I only want you to become used to wearing it. That is all.” The smile in Hannibal’s voice was nearly insufferable. Will could picture him exactly, with the expression which crept out whenever he got something he hadn’t expected and was busy calculating how to use it to his benefit.

“That’s the aim, though, right?” Will went on, stubbornly.

There was a pause on the line, followed by a faint exhale. “If I wanted to forbid you anything, I would make it so you could choose to disobey. Or I would make it impossible for you to be successful, so your punishment would be guaranteed. I would not chain you, make you immobile. That is what will happen, more or less, if you give me your key.”

Will screwed his eyes shut and, for the first time since putting on the cage, felt the tiniest twitch in his dick. It tugged at his balls, not unpleasantly. “I understand, yes. You would forbid me only if the end result you wanted was to punish me.”

“I do not see this as a punishment, no,” Hannibal said. “Like your submission, it would be a profound gift.”

“One I must choose to give,” Will said. “Which is why you want me to explore it on my own.”

“Precisely. Do you think you can do that?”

“Yeah,” Will said, surprising himself. It made it easier to see it as a task - _a challenge_. Something simple he could do for Hannibal. “I think I can.”


	2. Chapter 2

Will was still struggling into his jacket, one hand on the wheel, as he drove bumpily down his driveway. As he pulled out onto the road, the papers he’d slung onto the backseat all slid to one side in a heap. Some fluttered to the floor. A loud thud from the back was probably a bottle of water falling too. He’d retrieve it later, if he made good enough time to pull in somewhere for coffee.

He had a full day of teaching on Tuesdays. Usually, he liked to arrive at the Academy early in the morning, while the halls were mostly empty and the offices were still dark. But today he’d been delayed and was in danger of being late.

First, he cursed Hannibal, and then he cursed himself for going along with his ideas. He’d slept through his alarm and been made later still by the necessity of fitting the cock cage. A week had passed since their call - a week he’d spent checking for pinched, chafed skin; a week of learning that sleeping in a chastity device was, in fact, impossible, no matter what people on the internet said; a week of realising he wanted to try this out with Hannibal, not just on his own. The idea of presenting himself to Hannibal, a gift to be unwrapped at his leisure, had taken root. He’d woken with an unusually stubborn erection, one which voraciously resisted being caged. A few efficient strokes had taken care of it in the shower and when he came, it was to the thought of Hannibal locking him away, the key disappearing into his hand, the look of satisfaction on his face.

Hannibal had been entirely true to his word and not pushed him, leaving Will to experiment and report back on his own. He had found it didn’t prevent erections so much as make it impossible to do anything about them without removing the cage. What it did do was tease, the constrictive sensation bordering on pleasurable for someone with his masochistic tendencies, increasing his arousal. There was plenty of opportunity for Hannibal to string out the denial he wished to indulge Will in. All in all, Will was curious to see how Hannibal would use this new level of control.

And now today was the day he’d earmarked for a full day of wear, in the most challenging place he could think of. If he could cope with lecturing in it - while in his loosest pair of pants - then he was ready to hand the key over to Hannibal. Temporarily, at least.

He had worn it in public only once before, on a quick trip out for groceries. He’d been self-conscious, convinced others could see the strange curve it made in his pants. It didn’t help that he could feel it with every step, cupped tight in his underwear, the clack of the lock against the plastic sheath just about audible. Of course, no one had looked at him twice. When he returned home he was flushed and embarrassed, antsy with arousal. Whether it was the notion of carrying out Hannibal’s instructions, his secret humiliation or the cage itself he wasn’t ready to find out. Off the cage had come and, gasping out his success to Hannibal over the phone, he’d jerked himself to a glorious climax. Hannibal had been delighted.

Halfway between Wolf Trap and Quantico, Will’s stomach began to growl. He’d had to skip breakfast - almost a year of Hannibal’s insistence on three meals a day had ensured it would complain if left unfed until lunchtime. The next gas station was coming up fast so, in a snap decision, he took the turn-off and pulled in close to the entrance. 

The air was crisp and frosty as he hurried over. Loud, jangling music blared out at him as soon as he opened the door. Fumbling for his wallet, he made straight for the desk, strewn with flashing multi-coloured lights. The woman behind the counter - Julie - wore tinsel around her name badge and hummed along as she fetched him coffee and a fat donut. A display of cheap glittery cards towered over the cash register as he paid. He forced a polite smile onto his face and left as quickly as possible.

Somehow he was always surprised by the onslaught of the holidays. It seemed to creep up out of nowhere - one day it was pumpkins, the next turkeys, and then stores were piled high with ‘helpful’ gift ideas and wrapping paper. Probably because he ignored it as much as possible. He found it garish and unnecessary; always had. The decorations, the expense, the disposability of it grated on him, as did the pressure to socialise. 

As if the time of year could erase the habits of a lifetime.

*

It was much the same story at the Academy. It was the last week of the semester and most of the staff were showing signs of slipping into holiday mode. Even the trainees - usually so earnest both in the pursuit of justice and their own careers - seemed restless. By the time mid-afternoon arrived, he was glad to have a brief period of quiet before the final lecture of the day. 

His emails were clogged with exhortations to visit the accounts team for homemade gingerbread and reminders that the faculty holiday drinks was the following evening. Will had already firmly declined to take part in that - it would only provide Jack Crawford another opportunity to try to persuade him into taking on more casework, and besides, it clashed with his regular evening with Hannibal.

The thought of him distracted Will from his sour mood. He remembered finding him baking, on the day he’d delivered the news about the delays with the house. Will had not seen the Christmas cake since then. Presumably it was still getting its regular doses of brandy. There had been something touching about seeing Hannibal like that - baking cakes seemed innocently domestic, far removed from his usual dark showmanship. Almost homely, in fact. 

It made Will feel a pang of not-quite-guilt, both for the house - which he knew wasn’t his fault - and for being so bad-tempered. People were just trying to enjoy themselves, make the most of the little things. Baking gingerbread for your colleagues and knocking off early for a glass of wine were just that - clumsy but well-intentioned reminders there was more to life than the pile of work on your desk. He could never seem to put his feelings aside enough to be able to join in. He could only pretend, and badly. He supposed it was just the way he was. If Hannibal worked there, he would have already swapped gingerbread recipes with the bakers in accounts, and be arranging to donate some of his own bottles to the drinks party. He might not deliberately seek out such banal amusements, but he would take part graciously and charm everyone in the process. Will just made himself disagreeable.

He pondered for a few moments, then picked up his phone. _I miss you,_ he typed. Then, _can I call you tonight?_

*

It was Hannibal who called Will, not the other way around.

“Just got home,” said Will, shutting the front door behind him. “I was going to call you later.”

“Is it a bad time?” Hannibal asked. “You sounded… unusual, earlier.”

Will laughed. “Is it unusual of me to tell you I miss you?” He sat on the nearest chair, and realised it probably was. “Shit, am I that terrible?”

“You tell me many things. Just not often with actual words,” said Hannibal. “And you do not need to.”

“I should though, shouldn’t I?” Will leaned back in his seat, passed a hand over his forehead. “That’s the kind of thing people do. Use words to convey their feelings.” He paused, unsure how to proceed. “I had a long day. Everyone was in the holiday spirit, and I’m not really. I never am.”

“You felt your difference bitterly today.”

“I guess. And I thought of you, making your Christmas cake. It made me sad. That you couldn’t have the Christmas you wanted.”

“The only Christmas I want is with you,” Hannibal said. “A whole week with no interruptions. Can you imagine what I will do with you for that long?”

Will smiled. That did sound like the kind of Christmas he could really enjoy. “There was another reason I wanted to call you. I wore it all day today. At work.”

“How did it go?”

“It was… interesting. I was less self-conscious but there’s a part of me which is always aware of it, of why I’m wearing it.”

“I’m curious to know the answer to that; why you are pushing yourself to do this.”

“Right now, because you asked me to. But…” Will faltered a little. “The idea is growing on me. I want to do this with you. This morning, I was, er, _prevented_ from putting it on. It’s becoming it’s own distraction. I kept picturing you, locking me into it, the look on your face, while I was in the shower.”

Even speaking the words was enough for his cock to stir, making its restricted state apparent. The more he was reminded of it, the more arousing it became. Will cupped his hand around the solid bulge in his pants, obvious now he was leaning back with his legs spread. The only thing he could feel was hard plastic under his palm.

“Did you masturbate?” Hannibal asked. 

“Yes,” Will said, voice strained, a flush rising into cheeks.

“Do you want to masturbate now?”

“Yes,” he said, again, fairly certain he was waiting for permission. _Wanting_ permission.

“Go ahead,” Hannibal said. “Take it off, touch yourself. Let me hear you.” Will was already fumbling with his fly when Hannibal continued. “On the condition you let me know next time, before you do.”

Will groaned, taking the key from his pocket and undoing the padlock. The cage slid off easily, releasing his cock, grown heavy already. For a moment he just gripped it, feeling its silky weight, watching it harden in his hand.

“It will simply be a courtesy,” Hannibal said. “You do not need my permission. I may not even reply.”

He was breathing hard already, and started to stroke his dick with noisy rough determination. After being locked up all day, it seemed so wanton to be able to touch himself this freely. He shifted to gentle squeezing pulls, watching his cock slide through his fist.

“Yes,” he gasped. He thought about the tipping point where he made the decision to touch himself or not. Would he need to want it more to be able to pick up his phone and send a message to Hannibal, to tell him what he was about to do? Or would the idea excite him so much that he would be more likely to touch himself? Hannibal would keep mental records, he realised. Maybe even real ones, handwritten notes in an elegant leather pad. How often, what time of day, where Will was likely to be.

Wherever he was, he would know what Will was doing. Would be thinking of him, picturing it.

All over, his skin tingled hot, tight, and Will came in a fever-bright rush. It was so sudden he made barely a sound but his throat was parched from panting open-mouthed down the phone. He leaned forward in the chair, forearms braced on his knees. He wanted to stretch out, lay down and rest, but there was nowhere to go but the floor. Spatters of come clung to his fingers. He should go clean up.

“Well done, Will.” Hannibal’s voice in his ear seemed very near; intimate and soft. “You’ve tried so hard to do what I asked, and done so well.”

Will froze. Hannibal had never spoken to him quite like that before. The only thing which came close were the murmurs of adoration which fell from Hannibal for how well he took his punishment.

“You’ve been very good for me.”

He had to swallow something down then, something which shook and trembled in his chest. He gripped the phone tightly and didn’t answer.

“Is it difficult to hear yourself praised?” Hannibal said. “They’re not empty words, I mean it.”

“But I haven’t really done anything.” It was the only reply Will could come up with which made sense. 

“If you felt you deserved it, would it be easier to hear?”

“Yes? I don’t know, I guess so. I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Maybe it’s not the praise which is the problem,” Hannibal said. “It’s feeling that you’re worthy of it. Even I can’t give you that - it’s something you must allow yourself.”

“You’re slipping into psychiatry mode, Dr Lecter,” Will said.

“And you’re being resistant, which means I am close to the truth,” said Hannibal.

He was starting to get sticky. Will itched to move. To steer the subject somewhere more comfortable, he said, “Shall I bring the cage with me tomorrow night?”

“The weekend after will allow us much more opportunity,” Hannibal said. “Continue your solo explorations until then. And don’t forget my instruction.”

*

Will thought of very little else. 

Between their Wednesday night appointment and his work, there weren’t endless opportunities but he managed to jerk off twice. Once on Thursday night, after spending all day with the tingling-tightness Hannibal’s flogging had left fresh on his back. As soon as he could, he’d headed straight for the shower and turned the heat up high, to bring out the redness in his skin. It had stung too, making him hiss - an added bonus. The cage he kept on, until he was ready to text Hannibal - _about to jerk off, looking at the state you’ve left me in_.

The second was on Friday afternoon, his last day at work for a couple of weeks. He’d gone in to tie up some loose ends, betting that it would be quiet with most of the staff clocked off for the holidays. There were a few like him, though, also hoping to finish a few things in peace. Instead of risking the need for small talk, he hid in the darkened lecture theatre. In a few short hours, he would be greeting Hannibal, waiting for his collar. About to present himself in the cage.

He had no idea what would happen after that. It was an endlessly distracting to consider the various directions Hannibal could take. Maybe it would be like a particularly brutal form of edging, constantly teased and denied, or perhaps Hannibal would want him quietly submissive, trying to earn his way out of it. Would Will resist being reduced to that, or would his desperation creep up on him eventually? After about an hour of these thoughts, he gave in and went to the bathroom.

This time he didn’t tell Hannibal what he was thinking of, only what he was about to do. He braced himself against the wall, stroking himself hard and fast. He came with a stifled grunt, wondering when next he would be allowed the opportunity. 

*

That evening, Hannibal’s gaze tracked searchingly over Will, as he stood in his entrance hall. There was no box with him, only scarf, coat and gloves.

Will wet his lips. “I’m already wearing it,” he said.

Hannibal stilled, his eyes sharp. He swallowed once, then nodded. “Upstairs, please.”

He waited for Will to move, then followed. Both of them were silent, the air around them charged, already thick with unspoken promises.

“Strip,” Hannibal said, closing the bedroom door behind them.

He circled Will restlessly as each piece of clothing was removed, holding Will’s collar in his hands. When Will finally slid down his briefs, Hannibal halted in front of him. He let out a long, unsteady breath. 

“I thought I wanted to be the one to lock you into it,” Hannibal said. He went down on one knee in front of Will. “But this is much better.”

The room was warm, its temperature welcoming. He knew this was how Hannibal planned to keep him - naked but relaxed, his bare skin another opulent luxury in Hannibal’s curated surroundings. His eyes fluttered shut with pleasurable anticipation. It made the hair on his arms rise, the same electrifying sensation as the split-second before the cane struck. Already, it felt right, good.

“You chose to come to me like this,” Hannibal said, sliding his palm up along Will’s thigh.

Will nodded. “Yes,” he said. “I’ve been thinking. About it being a gift.” He faltered, then went on in a whispered rush. “I want to be good for you.”

There was a pause, and a shift of air in front of him. He opened his eyes to find Hannibal standing close, studying his face. He touched Will’s cheek, slid the tip of his thumb under the leather at his throat.

“You already are,” Hannibal said, and then tilted Will’s head back to buckle his collar into place.

Will blinked wildly. He wanted to argue but there was a lump in his throat which he didn’t feel like confronting.

“Do you not think so?” asked Hannibal. “Come, into the bathroom. I will check the fit.”

He made Will stand while he sat on the chair next to the vanity.

“Has there been any discomfort?”

“A little,” Will said. “I followed your instructions. Lubrication, cleaning, all of that.”

“Good,” said Hannibal. “But for a thorough examination I will need to remove it. Bring me the key.”

“Okay,” Will said, with a little surprise. It seemed anti-climactic to take it off so soon. He picked his pants up from the bedroom floor and retrieved the key from the coin pocket. Hannibal took it from him and placed it on the side, then pulled Will to stand between his knees.

He held Will’s cage between finger and thumb, and lifted it carefully to peer all round the base. Then he brushed Will’s pubic hair back to check the ring, sitting closely around the root of his cock. Will watched his hands at work, sliding smoothly over the plastic sheath. It was disorientating to be unable to feel even the lightest of his touches. 

“There is a reason most wearers shave completely,” Hannibal said. “Not only does it draw attention to the device itself, it makes taking care of oneself much easier. But perhaps that's a stage too far for now.”

Will swallowed, appalled already by how much he knew he was going to agree to. “Maybe you could trim it,” he said, a little breathlessly, as Hannibal rolled his balls gently in his palm.

“It would make inspecting it easier,” Hannibal said. “We don't want any chafing.”

With a tiny _click_ Hannibal unlocked the cage. In his hands it came apart easily. Will caught himself wondering on how many occasions he might have done the same thing to someone else. Though it was different with Will, it still brought forth a twinge of uneasy jealousy.

Hannibal cupped his dick, soft and limp still. He held him gently, sliding the wrinkled silk of his skin up and down. 

“There are no signs of redness on the penis itself,” Hannibal said. “But a little here, underneath the scrotum, which maybe should be expected. I will check that again tomorrow, in case it develops.”

The movement of his hands was detached, clinical. Will couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight. It reminded him of other games they had played - medical roleplays, scenarios where Will liked to feel helpless, humiliated by his own enjoyment. His dick twitched in Hannibal’s palm and he drew his hand away.

From a cupboard Hannibal brought out a small leather case - a shaving kit. He chose a pair of slender angled scissors and held them up so Will could see them. Will sighed and rolled his shoulders in an effort to relax them. He nodded his agreement, then turned his eyes to the wall. Better that than risk watching Hannibal’s fingers or the sharp efficiency of the blades.

He felt almost nothing - Hannibal touches were minimal, and scrupulously avoided his dick wherever possible. There was a slight tugging at his skin when the hair was pulled taut, and then after a crisp snipping sound. Will looked down only when Hannibal put the scissors away.

His hair had been trimmed very neatly, lying close to the skin. It was short, shorter than Hannibal’s was, making it seem finer and softer. He wanted to run his fingers through it but he kept his hands by his sides. Below it, his cock hung a little heavier. 

Hannibal was looking too, his lips pursed and head to one side.

“Don't like what you see, Doctor?”

Hannibal smiled. “On the contrary. But there's one further improvement I'd like to make.”

Will watched him take out a brush and pot from the shaving bag, and begin mixing a thick white cream. “Wait,” he said, foreboding biting sharply at him. “I thought you said that was a stage too far?”

“It would be here.” Hannibal stroked his fingertips through the neatly trimmed hair above Will’s cock. “But, perhaps not for here.” He drew a finger over the underside of Will's scrotum.

He placed a straight razor next to the shaving cream, and Will had to do a double-take.

“Fuck. No. You're not using that, not there.”

“Do you doubt the steadiness of my hands? I use it every morning,” Hannibal said. “And I could still perform an appendectomy perfectly, even after almost ten years away from surgical practice.”

“That’s not- That’s not the same thing,” Will choked out.

“No,” Hannibal agreed. “An appendectomy is much more complex.”

“But-” Will’s mind reeled - he couldn’t pull it away from the idea of Hannibal’s deft latex-covered fingers, slicked in blood, moving with unchallenged confidence. “Not on me though? Even you couldn’t do that. Could you?” 

“Especially on you,” Hannibal said, with a frown. “I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

“Shit.” Will pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He made himself breathe, in and out, slowly. “That is fucked up, you know that, right?”

“It is not encouraged, no,” Hannibal said.

He took out a whetstone and began to hone the razor on it, with practiced strokes. Will watched helplessly, until he finished and raised his eyes back to Will’s, waiting for his answer.

“Okay,” Will said. “Okay, fine. I suppose you've almost as much to lose as I do.”

His muscles were shaking with tension. He had to stretch out his limbs, to try and control himself. Hannibal stroked his hip with his free hand.

“Just relax, Will,” he said. “Close your eyes if it helps. Trust me.”

“Godammit,” Will said, and shut them. 

Behind his eyelids, his mind provided the scene for him. The steaming water being run into the basin. The soft, white towel soaked in it then wrung out, before being held between his legs. How his cock hardened when Hannibal pulled it upwards and brushed his testicles with cool white cream. Hannibal leaning around to pick up the razor, breath warm and even across Will’s stomach.

Will drew in a sharp breath, holding himself still as stone. There was a whispering sensation, but that was all. He might have imagined feeling the coldness of the blade glide over his skin, he couldn’t be sure. It was over extremely quickly. Hannibal leaned in close a couple of times, pulling his anatomy gently one way then another, until he was satisfied. When Will opened his eyes, Hannibal was rinsing the razor under clean running water. 

He looked down at himself but without a mirror, there was little to see. Hannibal smiled at him and took his hand. He drew it down, between Will’s legs and made him touch. His skin was incredibly soft, vulnerably naked. 

“See?” Hannibal said. “Until I choose otherwise, this will be all I can touch of you.”

Hannibal’s hand joined Will’s, and cupped their joined fingers very gently around Will’s balls. He squeezed very gently, and Will moaned.

His dick was almost fully hard, standing proud of his body. Hannibal slid the circle of his thumb and forefinger over it once, then turned on the shower.

“Get inside,” he said. 

Will stared for a moment, and realised it was missing a cloud of luxurious steam. “A cold shower?”

“What other outcome did you expect?” Hannibal said. “I need to lock you back up.”

He watched Will stand under the freezing spray, until his erection wilted completely.

“I hope you’re enjoying yourself,” Will said, accepting a towel from him and patting himself dry.

“Whatever happened to wanting to be good?” Hannibal said, with a wicked smile, as he slid the cage into place once more. 

*

By the time Will was dried off and seated at the table, his frustration had ebbed and he felt more like himself. 

Hannibal had given him a robe to wear over dinner - a very thin silk one, in deep indigo. It was surprisingly warm but it's fineness left Will almost more aware of his bare skin than being naked did. It didn't contain him the way his other clothing did; it slipped smoothly over his body, covering but not concealing. Under it the clumsy bump of the cage between his legs was very noticeable. 

He glanced at Hannibal next to him, at the head of the table.

“I feel like an artist's model,” Will said. “The kind you get in movies.”

Hannibal put down his knife and fork. “You are certainly inspiring,” he said. “If I painted, I would paint you like this, luminous in oils. The silk in the candlelight, the rose sheen of your skin, the bowl of ripe fruits on the dark wooden table.”

He slid the bowl between them and split open a fig, its flesh glistening between his fingers. He leaned close to Will and placed it between his parted, waiting lips. 

Will bit down, tearing its velvet skin easily. The seeds were grainy, luscious, mustily fragrant.

“You make me sound like a courtesan. Full of lush promise. Forever on canvas, all for you.” Will guided Hannibal's hand to his mouth and licked a streak of juice from his fingers. “How about when we live together - when I walk the dogs in old flannels and muddy boots, or come back from fishing, smelling like river water. Will there be any paintings of that?”

Hannibal laughed. “You are accusing me of idealism.”

“Can you blame me?”

“I may find your beauty dazzling but I am not blinded by it,” Hannibal said. “I see all of you.”

Will dropped his gaze to the tabletop and Hannibal said nothing further. The rest of the figs were served drizzled in honey and dipped in mascarpone, eaten straight from Hannibal's fingers. Will behaved with perfect obedience, taking each as it was given, cleaning Hannibal's fingers with his tongue when they were held out to him. It felt like being honoured and consumed, all at the same time - like he was the banquet. Hannibal ate nothing, just watched the movement of Will's mouth, where Will’s lips and tongue brushed his skin.

Will knew this game and must have played it well, because Hannibal cracked first. He twisted his fingers tightly in Will's hair and kissed him hard, licking the honey from Will's mouth. Will returned his kiss eagerly, and with no small measure of triumph. 

Hannibal led him upstairs soon after. He unlocked the cage but simply set it aside, slid the robe from Will's shoulders and suggested he get ready for bed. When Hannibal turned away to brush his teeth at the sink, Will was unaccountably relieved. It would have been disappointing to shatter the scenario building between them so easily.

They fell asleep quickly, Hannibal's pyjama-clad form pressed tight against Will's back, arms locked tightly around him. Will lay awake longest, feeling the even puffs of warm air against his neck slow, matching his own breathing to Hannibal's, until he too slept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting seriously dirty from here on in, folks, though it's sweet in places too.
> 
> A little warning: Features some submissive stuff which those uncomfortable with Daddy kink might find triggering - the word 'Daddy' isn't used (it is discussed/mentioned in the Chapter 4 though) but there's something of that dynamic. It's not really present enough for me to use it as a tag but it's worth mentioning for anyone sensitive to it. Just to be clear, I'm referring to Daddy kink in the grand gay tradition, **not** ageplay (I keep seeing a bit of confusion over the two).

Before Will opened his eyes, he knew there was something different, something he'd forgotten. He turned over to hide from the morning light, pushing his face into Hannibal's side, promising himself he'd think of it later, not now. But instead the something poked into Hannibal's hipbone, and Will was forced to confront it much earlier than he had wanted.

He flopped onto his back with a loud sigh, and pushed the covers aside. The cooler air of the room greeted his very insistent morning erection. Inevitably, he had a compulsion to touch it, even just once, but once he started it would be more difficult to stop. And, even though Hannibal hadn’t forbidden him from all contact, it would feel like cheating.

Very deliberately, he raised his arms over his head to lay his hands on the pillow. Out of reach and out of temptation.

Beside him, Hannibal rolled over and sat up. There was a pause, and Will glanced up at his face.

“Smugness isn't attractive, you know,” Will said. 

Hannibal ruffled his hair, and bent to kiss his forehead. “It's to be expected,” he said. “Shall I turn on the shower before I make coffee?”

“No,” Will said. “It's fine. I want to do this. You don't have to keep an eye on me.”

By the time Hannibal returned with a steaming mug, he'd willed himself back into a mostly flaccid state. Hannibal perched on the edge of the mattress, and watched Will take a sip. For someone not wearing a stitch, Will felt astonishingly dishevelled. Maybe it was to do with how his body itself was acting out of turn, it felt unruly. He wanted to put himself to rights, wash his face, comb his hair, _something_.

“I think I will have that shower,” Will said, taking another scalding sip. “Before breakfast. Not a cold one, though.”

He swung his legs out of bed and went to turn the water on, taking his coffee with him. When he turned around, Hannibal was hovering in the doorway.

“I meant it,” Will said. “Don't you trust me? Though, of course, if you just want to watch me shower…?” He flashed Hannibal a wicked smile as he stepped under the spray, and began soaping himself.

Hannibal watched for a moment, then rolled his eyes, just a fraction. “I feel an urge to remain closer than usual to you,” he said. “But you are right - we both must demonstrate trust.”

He withdrew, closing the door behind him. When Will had finished he found him sitting on the bed, drinking coffee and reading.

“Didn't go far, did you?” Will said, towelling his hair to a manageable dampness.

Hannibal beckoned to him. Will let himself be pulled down to the bed, and then arranged onto his stomach. 

There was a light touch below his shoulder blade, and another higher up on the other side. Just brief, warm presses of skin against his own. Then Hannibal dug his thumb firmly into the muscle along his spine, right in the centre of his torso, and Will groaned. 

“Feels good,” he mumbled into the pillow.

Hannibal worked him a little harder, spreading outwards from his spine, pressing and rubbing at isolated spots of knotted muscle. Will heard lotion being squeezed from a bottle and the sounds of Hannibal warming it in his palms. He lay perfectly still while Hannibal ran the flat of his hands over him in a firm, thorough massage.

Will moaned happily as the tension of the past week was forced from him. Initially he'd found it difficult, to lay still and take simple unreciprocated pleasure, with no distractions at all. But Hannibal had worn him down. Hannibal liked doing it - as long as he was the author of Will's experiences, he was usually more than content. All Will had to do was take what he was in the mood to give, whether that was a massage or something more intense.

Hannibal's hands slipped gradually lower, down to his thighs, with one lingering squeeze of his ass on the way. The bed dipped as Hannibal rested a knee on it, next to Will's own. Then there was warm breath on his inner thigh, quickly followed by a mouth, lips and tongue dragging along the crease of his thigh. Will groaned, his hips twitching in reflex, rubbing his cock into the mattress. 

Immediately, there was a sharp loud slap. It forced a gasp of surprise from Will before he could even register the stinging pain on one ass cheek. 

Hannibal drew away, and Will rolled over onto his side, resisting the urge to rub at his smarting skin. That had been planned, Will was sure. Hannibal had been waiting for the opportunity and Will had done exactly as he wanted.

“I'd better lock you up again,” Hannibal said, with a smirk. “And make sure you behave yourself.”

Will regarded him stonily, then lay back and let him. The lock clicked into position and the key vanished into Hannibal's hand. Of course Hannibal would want to tease him. And if that was what he wanted, Will would let him.

He sighed. At least there was breakfast to look forward to.

*

Will shifted his weight a little to his other leg. The silk ropes around his thighs strained at their knots, the rope suspending his wrists above his head creaked.

“If you need a break, say so,” Hannibal said, not looking up from his sketchbook. “Otherwise, try to keep still.”

The scratching of pencil on paper continued without pause. Will closed his eyes and let the rope take the strain in his shoulders. He knew he could stay as he was for a little more time. Hannibal had arranged him very carefully, posed for maximum aesthetics and minimum discomfort. That was the purpose of the session - the longer Will could hold his pose, the longer Hannibal had to draw him.

It was a deeply peaceful activity for them both. Hannibal had begun to make sketches when Will sat as his feet, until he began directing him into positions explicitly for that purpose. The ropes had been a recent embellishment. They extended the range of possible poses and Will found being bound sent him to a place of inner, grounding calm. With Hannibal, he was finding more and more ways to access it; whether through an excess of sensation or more gentle demonstrations of domination and ownership.

They spoke little. Will drifted blissfully; all his worries existed elsewhere. The only thing anchoring him to present moment were the tender ache of his muscles, the soft bite of the rope and Hannibal's frequent, dissecting glances. He looked at Will like an object, although a significant one, worthy of study. With his focus on light, line, and form, the arousal Hannibal experienced seemed abstract. He was too concerned with the precise manner in which the rope crept tightly round Will's thighs, binding them bent to his lower legs. Or how his hair curled against his straining arms, held above his head. It would only be later, when he closed his sketchbook, that the heat would flood back into his expression and he would advance on Will with pleasures more corporeal in mind.

His thoughts were beginning to stray places his body couldn't follow. He opened his eyes, ready to come back to himself, to the room he knelt in. It was warm, with a low-burning fire in the hearth nearby. Hannibal was opposite, sketchbook resting on his crossed legs, face blank with concentration. A glass of wine glowed by his side. Will could tell by the short, discrete marks he was making that he was nearly finished.

“Can I be let down soon?” 

It had been less than an hour but his mouth was dry, like he'd been asleep.

Hannibal gave a final few flourishes then laid the pad aside. He rose, bringing his glass with him, and made short work of the knots at Will's wrists. The rope slithered to the floor behind Will, freed from the hidden bracket high on the wall.

Hannibal sat down in the nearby armchair and ran his hands over Will's shivering muscles, encouraging the blood in his arms to flow more freely.

“Thank you,” Will said, shuffling awkwardly round to face him. The ropes around his thighs made even that difficult.

“How was that?” Hannibal asked. “You wore a particularly beatific expression today. It was a joy to draw, though I was hoping for something more suitable for St Sebastian.”

“You should have tied the ropes tighter then,” Will said, then smiled. “I should worry that you want to depict me martyred and full of arrows.”

“But you don’t,” Hannibal said, and kissed him, lips curving with amusement under Will's own.

Will took the offered wineglass from him, swirling it thoughtfully before taking a long sip.

“I think I'd like to tie you up,” said Will. He could see it easily. Instead of the intricate knots Hannibal favoured, Will's ropework would be efficient, almost brutal. He'd lash Hannibal to the bedposts, spreadeagled - unsubtle to the point of humiliating. “I think you might too, next time you feel differently inclined.”

Hannibal considered. “Was that the cause of that beatific expression, I wonder? I imagine your knots would chafe - you'd match the ferocity of my love with your own, bind me tightly with it. Confront me with my own helpless passion.”

“It only just occurred to me,” Will admitted. “But yes. I would.”

“Cruel boy.” Hannibal slid his fingers into Will's hair and tightened them, making Will tip his head back. Will gave a little gasp, of pleasure and of anticipation.

“So, what are you going to do about my helpless passion?” Will asked.

“And how beautifully helpless it is,” Hannibal said, tugging Will's head back further until his collar dug into his neck.

With his free hand, Hannibal unzipped his pants. Will sucked in a sharp breath, feeling his cock stir, and watched Hannibal bare himself. He made a conscious display of it - pushing his briefs down to expose his thick length, his heavy balls. His eyes followed the taut line of Will's throat, drank in his obvious but useless arousal, while he pulled and stroked himself to an impressive hardness.

Will was left open-mouthed with desire. The cage felt restrictive now, like his cock was straining against it, but he knew from experience that wasn’t the case. He looked down at himself, to see his dick shackled, the silken ropes biting into his thighs. Hannibal's gaze followed his own, and he squeezed himself harder, faster. Will's eyes fastened on the sight; his large, strong hand, the slick head slipping free of the foreskin. His own dick throbbed within its constraint. 

He moaned, his want rapidly building. Hannibal pulled Will to bend down low over his lap. So close, the sounds of his hand moving, the musky heat rising from his skin, was almost too much. Will went to take him in his mouth but Hannibal’s fist tightened in his hair and held him back. Instead, Hannibal guided his mouth to the hand still working his shaft. His movements slowed, his grip loosened, and Will nudged forward to lick tentatively between his splayed fingers. Hannibal growled, his fingers flexing in Will's hair.

Will did it again, flickering his tongue over Hannibal's cock, feeling how his stomach and thighs tensed underneath him. It felt like new territory. He’d never known Hannibal so dirtily selfish, just putting Will’s mouth where he wanted it; using him, enjoying his powerlessness. His delight was usually in persuasion, coercion; in the opening up of Will’s desires, not taking his own.

Hannibal's breathing was already ragged, harsh. He shoved his shirt and sweater up to bare his stomach, and thrust up once into his fist before continuing his slow deliberate pulls. Will dragged his mouth over Hannibal's knuckles, licking at the firm heated flesh between them whenever he could, until he was pulled lower, down to his balls. They were as smooth as Will's own now were, skin soft, drawn up tightly. Will laved at them, sucking them gently into his mouth, while Hannibal groaned and jerked himself rapidly to a near-silent completion.

Will was left breathless, trembling with his own heightened arousal. For the first time, his own orgasam was utterly irrelevant. That he could simply be a tool for Hannibal’s pleasure had not occurred to him before, but now, with his own pleasure locked away, it made a dizzying kind of sense. Will knew he could beg or plead as much as he wanted, and Hannibal would be unmoved. It would happen when he judged it should and not before.

Hannibal’s hold in his hair had softened to lazy strokes of his fingers through it. Will continued to nuzzle between his legs, until Hannibal settled back into the chair. He looked sated and happy as he hooked a finger through ring on Will's collar, and pulled him up to lean over his stomach. Will didn't wait to be asked, and began licking it clean, almost grateful for the opportunity to prove himself. It was an exaggerated show of obedience perhaps, but he understood how he could gift his submission, with no expectations of reciprocation. He wanted to be _of service_ to Hannibal, willingly used. Just the thought made his need swell again. He closed his eyes and focused upon it, on the taste of Hannibal on his tongue; thick, musky, bitter. 

Hannibal watched, stroked his hair. “How good you've been for me,” he said. “I've never seen you so meekly obedient. Do you have nothing smart to say? No manipulations to persuade me to unlock you?”

Will pulled away, wiped his lips and smiled sheepishly. He shook his head. “It's different somehow. I can't explain it. I want… I want to be good. I want to deserve it.”

“And how do you plan to do that?”

“By serving you, pleasing you.”

“Are you hoping I'll get bored with your good behaviour?” Hannibal said. He leaned closer, took Will's face in his hands, studied it. “Or maybe you just like it.”

Will flushed, and nodded. It was a ridiculous time to become bashful. “Maybe I do.”

*

They remained there for some minutes, before Hannibal decided it was time to begin preparing dinner. He untied Will's legs and helped him into the armchair. He brought each of Will’s feet in turn into his lap, digging firm fingers into his cramped calves. When he was finished Will could stand without too much trouble. Faint impressions of the ropes were still printed into his skin.

Hannibal kept him close as he cooked dinner, putting a cushion in the corner for Will to kneel on. He watched Hannibal perform his nightly culinary dance silently, and with a light heart. He felt dazed still, floating somewhere up near the ceiling.

After a few minutes, Hannibal turned to him. “Your leash, please. Go fetch it.”

Will blinked out of his reverie, and stood. His collar and leash were kept in Hannibal’s bedroom, unlike their other restraints and toys. They were too significant to leave in the basement playroom, where others had been before him. In less than a minute he’d done as Hannibal asked, and returned to kneel on the cushion.

“The silk robe too.”

Will hesitated for a second, then stood again. The robe was hanging on the back of Hannibal’s dressing room door, adjoining the bedroom. He fetched that too, making sure to keep his pace exactly the same as the first time. When he knelt back on the cushion, robe neatly folded and placed next to the leash, Hannibal watched him closely.

“Very good,” he said. “Now go set the table. I will be serving in ten minutes. We will need the Bordeaux glasses tonight.”

Again, Will got up, this time for the dining room. In the sideboard he found place settings, napkins and silverware. That was the easy part. Hannibal had dozens of wine glasses, the differences between them subtle to the uninitiated. He hoped he could remember which were the right ones.

His task complete, he returned to the cushion. Hannibal didn't acknowledge him, too busy assembling the plates of food. Will waited patiently, far more alert now the tension between them had shifted again. He knew Hannibal was testing his boundaries, measuring them against Will's stated desire to please. Will was glad - he had no idea how far he wanted to go with it, where his edges were.

“Put on the robe,” Hannibal said, without turning away from his task. “Then pick up the leash and wait for me.”

Will did as asked, still on his knees. He reasoned Hannibal hadn't told him to move, so he didn't. Hannibal wiped his hands and came over to stand in front of him. He held his hand out and Will set the leash into it in a neatly-coiled pile. Only then did he look up. Hannibal was drinking him in like a connoisseur.

“Perfect,” he said, more to himself than to Will. He pushed his thumb under Will's chin, raising his head higher. The leash was clipped to his collar. “Up now.” 

Will tried to stand as fluidly as possible, a feat made more difficult by spending most of the afternoon on his knees. Hannibal led him into the dining room and seated him in his usual place. He clipped the end of the leash to the ring on Will’s collar, so the chain hung tidily in a heavy loop down his chest. Hannibal stood back, to admire the effect, then disappeared into the kitchen to fetch the plates.

Dinner passed in a fairly usual fashion. Will smiled a little to himself - after all, it wouldn’t do for their games to overshadow the food. And anyway, Hannibal had a way of serving dishes which was positively an act of dominance. Will wondered how many people who had dined there had noticed that, underneath his act of courteous host, lay a formidable controlling force which always succeeded in getting the response it sought.

He waited to speak until Hannibal seemed to invite it from him. “This is delicious, thank you,” he said.

Hannibal’s lips quirked. “I seem to have made quite a new man of you. Is it the cage which has brought about such a remarkable change, or something else?”

Will thought while he chewed and swallowed. “Not the cage, no. It might have been a catalyst though.”

“Then what?”

“Recently I’ve thought maybe I don’t show you enough that I appreciate you. The things you do for me.” He paused, picked up his glass. “I know I’m not always easy to be around.”

Hannibal studied him for a long moment. “I do not feel neglected,” he said. “This seems to be more about your feelings than mine.”

Will didn’t know what to say to that. It was undoubtedly true - if anything, Hannibal had grown increasingly secure in their relationship.

“You want to be good, you said - you want to deserve it. If my assurances that you are already are not enough, how can we best address this?” Hannibal asked.

“I don’t know,” Will said. “I just… I like the idea of being here for you for a change. My needs are- well.” He looked down at his lap, the silk-covered bump of the cage. “You will meet my needs when you decide to meet them. It’s not up to me, is it?”

“Your _sexual_ needs,” Hannibal said. “I will meet your other needs as usual. If you want to give any others up, you will need to persuade me.” Will threw him a questioning look, and Hannibal continued. “If you are feeling insecure, I would not recommend it. Especially after the last time.”

Will reached for his hand. “That was different. And, yes, I meant sexual needs.”

“Good,” said Hannibal. “What is it you wish to feel you deserve? Release? Do you want to work for it?”

“Not exactly. I guess it’s a sort of stand in.” _For you, your love. I want to feel worthy of it._ “I don’t really know.”

Hannibal’s disbelieving eyes bored into him. Will felt himself going red. He ducked his head. 

“You,” he whispered, down at his plate. “I want to deserve you. Right now I don’t feel like I do.”

Hannibal laid aside his knife and fork, his napkin. “Did something happen?” he asked. “You have seemed your usual self.”

Will shook his head. “It’s not you. I get like this around this time. The holidays. They don’t sit well with me.”

“You feel inadequate,” Hannibal said. “Unable to live up to expectations.”

“Something like that.” Will fiddled with the tablecloth before remembering himself enough to pull his hand away. He gestured into his lap, at the cage. “Are you disappointed? Did you want me to put up more of a fight?”

“I wanted to see what would happen,” Hannibal said, slipping his fingers through the leash and tugging gently. “You’ve surprised me yet again.”

*

After dinner was over, Hannibal broke with his habit of sending Will into the comfort of the living room while he cleared away. Instead, he used the shortened leash to lead Will to a chair by the fireplace and sat down himself. Then he issued a series of short instructions - once one task was complete, another quickly followed. _Take off the robe, build a fire, pour me some brandy_. Lastly, he sent Will to tidy away the dishes.

It didn’t take Will long. The kitchen was cleaner than his own would be even before he began cooking, but he wiped the surfaces down anyway. Most of the dishes went in the dishwasher. The glasses he washed and dried by hand.

Though it was obvious what Hannibal was doing - giving him little tasks to focus on, both a distraction and an outlet for his self-doubt - it still felt good to do them. They were small but useful, things which needed doing. They had purpose. And because Will was doing them, Hannibal was relaxing by the fire. It made him warm with satisfaction.

When he was sure both kitchen and dining room were as neat as he could get them, he made his way back to Hannibal’s chair and knelt at his feet.

Hannibal smiled down at him benevolently. “I have one more task for you, but you are to choose what it is. Find something small you can do for me, something to show you care. Nothing sexual, something else.”

Will’s heart sank a little. He wasn’t good at this kind of thing - he never knew what to get people as gifts. It made him self-conscious, his empathy seemed to hamper his efforts not enhance them. It was too easy to picture the recipient’s face, what it betrayed, and what the gift betrayed about him. That he’d tried too hard, or didn’t try hard enough.

He looked around the room, at Hannibal’s possessions. Some books, most of them were kept in the study. He could go bring him something to read? There was the harpsichord - but Will couldn’t play, and asking Hannibal to wasn’t really the point, however much he might like it. He turned his eyes to Hannibal, already comfortable, brandy by his side. He had everything he wanted, anything he lacked he could get easily.

Out of nowhere, his mind snagged on the image of a bowl of mandarins he’d seen in the pantry. Before he could talk himself out of the idea, he brought one to Hannibal on a plate.

Hannibal looked at it, and then him, curiously.

“I haven’t finished yet,” Will said, and began to peel it. The skin was thin, fragrant; its oils scented his fingers. He removed as much pith as he could and arranged the segments on the plate before handing it to Hannibal.

He watched Hannibal take one and eat it, unsure if he’d chosen well. Was it too simple? A distant part of him scoffed, for being so caught up in this need to please. For a moment, a tremulous feeling stole over him, of being horribly, irrevocably exposed.

A smile grew warm across Hannibal’s face. He bent to Will, cupped his cheek with one hand. Kissed his forehead softly. “Thank you,” he said, words carefully and evenly weighted with their full meaning.

Will let out a breath. He knew it was nothing really, but he understood it wasn’t the act which was important. _It’s the thought that counts_. How many times had he heard that particular phrase, and how often did people really mean it? But Hannibal did. Especially if it was Will who offered, who gave. No matter how insignificant it might seem to Will.

Hannibal offered him a piece of mandarin from his fingers. Will almost did so automatically but stopped short at a tug of something in his gut. It was the opposite to what he had meant by his gesture. Blushing furiously, he said, “No, they’re for you. All of them.”

He saw his meaning make itself known to Hannibal, swiftly followed by his re-calculations. 

“Good boy,” Hannibal said. “So giving.” And then preceded to eat every one while Will knelt at his feet and watched.

It was oddly powerful. Will could feel it, pushing at his edges, stretching the sense of himself. Much more difficult than receiving pain, than being restrained. Choosing to give something more, show Hannibal something new and vulnerable. Something needy. He was exhausted already, and elated.

When Hannibal finished, he took hold of Will’s leash, loosely, and stroked his cheek. “I will be gone for a few moments. In my absence I want to you stay just as you are,” he said. “I will be back soon.”

Hannibal stood and stepped carefully around him. Will kept his eyes on the empty chair, even when he heard the door close softly shut. He didn’t know if he should be surprised by himself or not. He still couldn’t say if he deserved Hannibal’s love and attention, but it seemed like a much less pertinent question.

The door opened again. Will resisted the urge to turn towards it, even when Hannibal did not return to his seat.

“Here, Will,” Hannibal said, to his left. “Come here.”

He was sitting on the sofa, a leather paddle in one hand.

Will shuffled towards him a little on his knees, then wondered why he was still clinging to the idea it wasn’t something he did, and crawled instead. He halted in between Hannibal’s legs, and sat back on his knees again.

Hannibal held the paddle up in front of his face, to let Will register it. “Over my lap, please,” Hannibal said.

“Is this punishment?” Will asked, climbing onto the sofa. He placed his hands on the other side of Hannibal’s lap, and lowered himself down so his ass was raised. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, nothing like that,” Hannibal said, trailing his fingers over the backs of Will's thighs. “You’ve been very good for me this evening. I want to see if you can be good for just a little longer.”

Will sighed and settled into his position more comfortably, loosening his shoulders a little. He dipped his head lower, pressing his forehead into the plush upholstery. The leash coiled onto the sofa below him, cool against his chest.

Hannibal rubbed his palm over his ass, squeezed a cheek briefly. “That’s right, relax,” he said. “You want to please me, don't you, Will?”

“Yes.”

“Say it.”

“I want to please you,” said Will.

“Very good,” Hannibal said. “If you need a break, please raise your right hand.”

To begin, he simply rubbed the paddle gently against Will's ass, warming both it and his skin. The first tap was light, issuing a gentle smacking sound. Will lay still, eyes closed, quiet. A second quickly followed, and another, until Hannibal built a soft percussive rhythm of rapid slaps. Will exhaled through his nose, and concentrated on keeping his shoulders relaxed. His body automatically tried to tense; to revert to a defensive posture, no matter how light the touch. But it was better to let it wash over him, to let the sensation build slowly, heating his skin and his blood.

Having found a sustained rhythm, Hannibal's other hand slid slowly along Will's spine. He spread his fingers over the back of Will’s neck and held him, precisely where his collar buckled. 

Will gasped quietly into the sofa. The paddle came down harder, firmer. Each one jolted him forward, mostly due to his own involuntary flinches, away from the sharp spreading sting. Every time he moved, the leash jingled softly. Will moaned, and arched his back, presenting his ass for more. Hannibal moved his hand down into his hair, tightening his fingers just enough for Will to feel it. The rhythm of smacks didn’t falter once, slower than before but still too quickly for Will to recover from one before another landed. He wriggled slightly, restless, his arousal increasing to the point where he would normally look for Hannibal’s touch. But all he could do was try to be still, to receive Hannibal’s blows, to take what he could from them.

Without warning, Hannibal stopped. Will gasped anew - it gave the raw heat space to flood him with sensation, before it started to fade. The paddle was placed on the sofa, next to him. Hannibal kept one hand in his hair, and his other lingered over Will’s burning skin.

“So very good,” Hannibal said. “You took that almost perfectly.”

He dragged his hand down between his cheeks, grazing a finger over Will’s hole. Will gave a strangled yelp - he couldn’t help it.

Hannibal slapped him once, hard, with his palm. Will screwed his eyes shut and forced himself to remain motionless. 

“That one was punishment,” Hannibal explained, not unkindly. “Remember you are here to serve me, not the other way around.”

Will nodded, slightly breathless at the idea. “Yes. Sorry.”

Hannibal’s hand moved lower, sliding smoothly down to cup Will’s balls. He fondled them gently, squeezing very lightly with his palm. Will bit his lip, every muscle in his limbs rigid as he tried not to press back into his hand.

“Much better,” Hannibal said. “Sit up, I want to look at you.”

Will pushed himself off Hannibal’s lap, to sit back onto his knees again. Immediately Hannibal reached for the cage, wrapped his fingers around it. He rubbed his thumb over the tip.

“Did you know this was wet?” he asked, fixing Will with a neutral look. Will shook his head. “How well you’re doing, putting your needs aside to please me. Do you want to please me even more?”

“Yes, please,” Will said, not quite knowing where his words came from. “Please let me touch you.”

“Before I do, I want you to understand one thing. No matter how good you are tonight, I am not going to let you come. You will remain locked up and out of reach.” He wound his fingers round the leash, just below Will’s collar. “Do you still want to please me, knowing I won’t reciprocate?”

The rush of want Will experienced was dizzying. Yes, he wanted to come, to receive physical pleasure, but also he wanted to draw out this new experience, follow it through to its natural conclusion. And more than anything, the opportunity to unselfishly serve Hannibal called to him.

“Yes, yes I do,” he said, knowing he was flushed with embarrassment, with how much he needed this. It was like walking a tightrope - his trust in Hannibal led him forward, step by step. On either side lay shame, mortification, and plain old cynicism. But he was held high above them - though each step carried more risk, it took him further, deeper into submission and, eventually, out the other side, into safety.

Hannibal smiled, and in it Will saw genuine pride. He took Will’s hand and lay it over his cock, hard beneath his pants. Will leaned down, rubbed his face over it, thought about how hard Hannibal got simply from spanking him. Sometimes it was easy to forget that it wasn’t all for his own benefit, that Hannibal loved it too. Hannibal stroked his fingers through his hair; Will sighed and just nuzzled at him, open-mouthed through his pants.

“Shall I show you what to do?” Hannibal asked, pulling him away a little and unzipping. He brought out his cock and held it at the base. He tugged Will’s head up a little, so his mouth was level with the flare of the tip, visible through his foreskin. “Use the flat of your tongue, gently. Just there.”

Will did, dragging it lightly over the ridge, tasting the salt-musk of his skin.

“First you must wet the skin, so your mouth and hand will slide up and down more easily,” Hannibal said, guiding his head down.

Working his way up from the base, Will licked him wetly, slowly, tongue broad and flat, back to the head. The tip bulged out from the foreskin. Will closed his lips around it, and lapped at the loose skin with the tip of his tongue.

“Good boy,” Hannibal praised. “That’s right.”

Will sank lower, sliding the foreskin back to expose the head. He sucked lightly, and Hannibal groaned.

“Move your mouth now, up and down. Not too much.”

He bobbed his head as instructed, lips rubbing repeatedly over the ridge. It got messy quickly, saliva running down the shaft. Little wet noises kept escaping him too. Usually he wouldn’t care, but now it made him self-conscious.

“Don’t be shy, keep going,” Hannibal said. “Make it good and wet. I like the noises you make.”

Will flushed deeply, more at how much it turned him on to be spoken to like he didn’t have much experience than at the words themselves. If he could have touched himself, he could have come in ten seconds flat. Instead, he focused on Hannibal’s cock, on how he sounded breathless when he spoke. He sucked him more slowly, and then in short rapid pulls, up and down. 

Hannibal released his hair, and stroked along his back, gliding down to his ass and up again. Every so often he squeezed Will’s cheeks, still tender and heated. He was getting close, the taste in Will’s mouth turning bitter.

“When I come, stay still and don’t swallow,” Hannibal said. “Just hold it in your mouth. Can you do that?”

Will nodded as much as he could, humming his assent around Hannibal’s cock.

“You’re doing so well, giving me your mouth like this,” Hannibal said. “Such a good boy for me.”

His own cock twitched in the cage, tugging at his balls. Will didn’t try to hold back his moan, and gave Hannibal another series of rapid short slides of his lips, sucking noisily. He laved his tongue across the underside, and Hannibal’s fingers tightened fast in his hair, his cock pulsing. Will stilled completely, keeping his lips clamped around his cock, feeling him spurt over the back of his tongue.

After a few seconds, Hannibal breathed out long and luxuriously, a sighed-out gasp of pleasure.

“Perfect, exactly as I asked.” He relaxed his grip to stroke Will’s hair again, and then his cheek. “Now, open that beautiful mouth a little. Let me see how well you did.”

Will blinked, his throat worked reflexively, as he considered what Hannibal wanted. He pulled back a little on his cock, then widened his lips a fraction, letting the accumulated come and saliva leak from his mouth. He watched it slide down Hannibal’s cock. He moaned again, almost helplessly - it felt like the dirtiest thing he’d ever done, though he was sure that couldn’t be true.

“Is there more?” Hannibal asked. “Show me.”

He pulled his head back, up to the very tip of his cock and off, so it was just resting on his tongue. Hannibal was staring down at him, utterly rapt. He opened his mouth fully, so the remaining come dribbled out stickily.

“My best boy,” Hannibal breathed, wiping it from his lips. 

Wordless, Will nodded, and let Hannibal pull his head down to rest in his lap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Simply beautiful illustration by TheSeaVoices - go check out the rest of her work on [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSeaVoices/) and [tumblr](http://theseavoices.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mentions/discussion of Daddy kink in this chapter, for those who may be triggered by it.

Will leaned against the cool tiles, watching Hannibal swirl the steaming water around in the tub. The humid air smelled faintly of lemongrass, quietly refreshing. When Hannibal was finished, he disrobed and stepped in. Will followed without being asked.

An hour ago, he’d woken, still dazed, like he’d slept hard all night. He had lain for a while, simply blinking up at the ceiling, his thoughts eddying around the events of the previous day. He had automatically pulled the bedcovers to one side, to prevent any accidental stimulation to his cock; aching, rigid, leaking wet against his belly. He had to have another cold shower, so Hannibal could cage him again.

After breakfast, Hannibal had suggested a bath. All morning they had spoken very little, but Hannibal made sure his presence was a reassuring silent constant, peppered with small affectionate touches. He paused in drinking coffee to brush Will’s hair behind his ear, placed a hand between his shoulders as he stood to fetch more toast. Not pushing, not demanding Will discuss anything he wasn’t ready to.

Will knew he needed to talk, but couldn’t quite seem to get his thoughts in order. Though, lying back against Hannibal amidst steaming water, perhaps it didn’t matter. Currently, he might be someplace uncertain but wherever that place was, he was safely held.

He looked down at himself, to the cage floating in the water between his thighs. Hannibal suggested he continue to wear it for now - he seemed to imply that soon he would be unlocked for the last time. He had promised to shave Will again, after their bath. Maybe the cage wouldn’t even go back on again after that. He wondered if he was ready, if he wanted to end this now. He’d assumed that once caged and subject to Hannibal’s teasing, he would have been desperate to be allowed his release again. Now he wasn’t so sure. Some interesting doors had been opened which he didn’t think he wanted to close just yet.

“I never thought I’d want anything like that,” Will said. From the water, the steam rose in curtained veils, in curling wisps. He thought of all the millions of water droplets, sluggishly suspended, drowning them in an airborne stream. 

Against his back, he felt Hannibal’s body prepare to speak before he made a sound. His ribs expanding, the action of his diaphragm. “And you may never want that again,” he said. “Needs come and go. Do you feel better for it?”

“Yes,” said Will. 

Hannibal’s short huff of laughter tickled his ear. “Would you care to elaborate?”

A sheepish smile pulled at Will’s lips. He turned his head to the side, to press his lips to Hannibal’s collarbone. “I feel easier. More comfortable.”

“More deserving?”

“Yeah,” Will said. “Sorry about that, I don’t really know what happened.”

“You mentioned the time of year,” Hannibal prompted. “I assume you meant the holidays, not the season. Many people find them challenging.”

Will gave a deep sigh. “It just feels so… irrational, to be like this. I understand what the holidays are about, underneath all the commercialism and waste. Feasting through the dark times, being with the people you love.” He paused for a moment, took Hannibal’s hand in his own. “I thought it might be different this year.”

Hannibal squeezed it. “We haven’t had them yet, it still might be. And if it isn’t, it doesn’t matter. You won’t be letting me down.”

A sweet, tight pain filled Will’s heart. There it was, the thing he’d been most afraid of. It was typical of Hannibal to see right through him, straight to his truth. 

Will nodded. “Okay,” he said, finally. “I believe you.”

Hannibal kissed his temple. “Good boy,” he said. Will chuckled at how amused he sounded. He sat up a little, so he could look round at Hannibal.

“You know, I was _that close_ to calling you- I don’t know what, actually.”

“Not _Master_ , I imagine,” Hannibal grinned. “You made that very clear to me.”

“The way you kept calling me _boy._ I should have hated it.”

“But you didn’t,” Hannibal said. “You felt safe. Loved.”

“Yeah,” said Will. He still did.

Hannibal watched him, curiously. “If you could give a name to who I was to you, yesterday, what would it be?” At Will’s blank look, he continued, “For instance, _Daddy_ is often used.”

Will pulled a face. “No,” he said. “I’d probably still call my father that sometimes, if he was still alive. We might have lived all over, but he was southern, through and through.”

“Okay, too oedipal. How about _Sir_?”

Will considered, poking his toe up through the bubbles. “That’s a bit better. It’s the kind of thing I would have called my dad’s friends, maybe.” He caught Hannibal’s eye, then blushed hotly and sank deeper into the water. “God, what have you done to me?”

“There’s no need to drown yourself,” Hannibal laughed. “It’s not uncommon.”

“I’m forty years old,” Will complained.

“And I’m ten years your senior,” Hannibal said. “And always will be.”

Will still couldn’t make himself look at him. Instead, he focused very hard on the faucet, which was typically, unnecessarily elegant. Hannibal carried on talking anyway.

“My role is often to be a source of stability, discipline and love, all rolled into one. It makes sense, when looked at that way.”

In response, Will made a grudging noise of agreement. It did make sense. That was the issue.

“We never have to do it again,” Hannibal said.

“No, I know,” Will said. “Problem is-” He peeked over his shoulder, back at Hannibal. “-I sort of liked it. And I liked, um, serving you.”

Hannibal just smiled at him, and began to wash his hair.

*

As promised, Hannibal used the straight razor to shave him smooth again. Kneeling below Will, he checked carefully for chafing, applied a little soothing ointment where required, and refitted the cage. Will let out a breath of relief at the sound of the lock clicking shut.

“You didn’t think it was going to be that easy, did you?” Hannibal said. “I haven’t finished having my wicked way with you.”

“I’m not ready to end this yet.” Seeing the brightness in Hannibal’s eyes, Will raised an eyebrow. “You’re really enjoying yourself, aren’t you? Has it been that much of a strain, dealing with someone as difficult as me? Now you’ve finally found a way to make me obedient.”

“You are an enjoyable and noble challenge,” Hannibal said. Will snorted, touched his knuckles affectionately to his jaw. Hannibal kissed them, then turned his face back up to Will’s. “I like learning new things about you. And coupling that with things I know well. How do you feel about letting me use you, for my own pleasure, and nothing else? If you do well, you can have a reward.”

“What kind of reward?” Will replied, with narrowed eyes.

Hannibal grinned broadly. “Ah, there he is. My _tesoro._ I knew you hadn’t gone for good.”

Will swatted him on the shoulder. “How about my reward is _no sarcasm_.”

“Now you know how I feel,” Hannibal said. “What kind of reward would you like?”

Will’s mind went blank. He shrugged. “I don’t know, just to come is fine.”

Hannibal sat back on his haunches, and gave him a calculating look. “I imagine you’d like some exercise after being so passive. Would you like to fuck me?”

“Uh,” Will said, rather stupidly. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Yes? What, really?” It wasn’t unusual, but it seemed quite some distance from the themes they’d been following.

“You don’t sound very sure,” Hannibal said.

“Yes, I’d like to fuck you,” Will said, making sure to enunciate each word fully. “ _Sir_.” He noticed how a hungry look flickered across Hannibal’s face, even if he was still being sarcastic.

Hannibal stood, gathered his leash and clipped it on. He tugged it once, in reprimand. “You’d better ensure you do well, then. Hadn’t you?”

*

When Hannibal said Will would be used for his pleasure, he really meant it. He didn’t demand his mouth, his hand, anything like that. Instead he stripped off his own clothes and quickly began enjoying Will’s body on his own, purely selfish, terms. 

First, he made Will kneel on the bed next to him. Then he nosed at him all over, beginning from Will’s stomach and making his way up and back down again. He pulled Will’s arms aloft and pushed his face deep into his underarm hair, inhaling his scent extravagantly. It tickled a bit; Will tried hard not to laugh. He tasted him all over, too; swiping his tongue over Will’s neck; lapping delicately at his nipples - teasing them into peaks, and then biting them; dipping it wetly into his naval. By the time he was nuzzling into the crease of Will’s thigh, Will had an uncontrollable smile plastered across his face, wide and delighted. He’d had no idea he could give someone so much pleasure by not doing anything at all.

Hannibal noticed, in the middle of burying his nose into Will’s trimmed pubic hair. Without an ounce of self-consciousness, he returned Will’s smile and went happily back to smelling him.

“You don’t really want me to shave that off, do you?” Will realised. “Did you even want to trim it?”

“It captures your scent beautifully,” Hannibal said. “But it was a necessary sacrifice. Though I did enjoy the action of doing so, of inspecting you. Maybe we can continue with that.”

He looked up at Will, gauging his reaction. Will didn’t take long to decide.

“Yeah, okay. I might let it grow out a bit first,” Will said. “So you’ve got more to savour.”

Hannibal laughed, hot and damp over his inner thigh.

“I had no idea,” Will said. “How did I not know?”

Hannibal didn’t answer, too busy licking down Will’s thigh, down to his balls.

“I mean, I knew you’re not squeamish about that kind of thing. Smells and tastes,” Will continued. “But- it never occurred to me.”

Hannibal pulled his mouth away, abruptly. It was an abused pink, very slightly swollen. “It’s very simple,” he said. “No one has ever obsessed me as much as you. It didn’t occur to you because it didn’t occur to me, until recently. Now stop overthinking and let me enjoy you in peace.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Will said, with a little smile at the ceiling.

He spread his thighs obligingly, when Hannibal pushed at them. His tongue dragged over Will’s newly-smooth skin, swirling wetness as he went, before he sucked a testicle into his mouth. Will gasped, and fought to keep still. His dick ached again, his arousal now a constant background feature. It was maddening but also deliriously good to be kept so tightly wound.

Hannibal pulled away, and considered the display immediately in front of him - Will’s bound cock, balls full and drawn up high. He held the cage between thumb and forefinger, pressed the flat of his tongue to the tip and drew it slowly down to the base of the cage. Will gritted his teeth, and gave a whine of desperation. Hannibal smiled wolfishly, then, with barely a pause, swallowed almost all of the cage into his mouth and held it there. The manner in which he let it slide from his lips was utterly wanton. Will almost choked.

“You must be getting close,” Hannibal said, thoughtfully. He paused to lick the end of the cage again, tasting Will’s pre-come on it. “These cages do not prevent orgasm, you know. The right stimulation to your prostate might be enough.”

Will groaned in frustration, shook his head. “You said.”

“If you do well, I said.” Hannibal sat up, and motioned for Will to move aside. He lay down against the pillows. “Face the other way, and straddle me. Then forward onto your hands and knees.”

Sighing, Will shuffled about until he was in a position Hannibal was happy with. Back straight, ass pointing directly at Hannibal. He could guess what was coming next.

He felt Hannibal’s breath first, warm and intimate, stirring the hairs on the backs of his legs. Then he reached between Will’s thighs, pushing the cage and Will’s balls back towards his mouth. Will swallowed the sounds forced from him as best he could, as Hannibal sucked him wetly, laving his tongue up his perineum and down once more, over his swollen scrotum. Below him, Hannibal’s cock lay hard against his stomach - ignored completely until then, as Hannibal began lazily, loosely, fisting himself.

Gradually, Hannibal’s tongue worked higher and higher, until it was teasing around Will’s hole. He’d been told not to move, and already Will’s arms and thighs strained from the effort of keeping still. When just the pointed tip breached him, he shouted out his pleasure. Under normal circumstances it was something he enjoyed, but now he had been denied any other touch, and for so long, it was exquisite, sending crackles of sensation all up along his spine. Hannibal didn’t admonish him for being noisy, only squeezing his cock a little harder in time with Will’s panted moans. Will watched his hand work enviously, hungrily - he wasn’t sure how long he could hold out for. 

His cheeks grew slicker, more slippery. Hannibal pressed inside deeper each time, flicking his tongue a little after every thrust. Will cried out again and again, desperately clinging to his greater desire to fuck Hannibal. He could easily believe he could come from just this, still locked in the cage. The only thing which was going to prevent him was remembering what else he could have if he didn’t. One thing was clear, Hannibal certainly wouldn’t care if he came now - he would just continue using Will exactly how he wanted. He was stroking himself more firmly, long supple strokes of his cock, as he fucked Will with his tongue. Will shuddered with each thrust - it made him want his promised reward all the more, left him determined to earn it. 

Hannibal’s tongue withdrew, licked lavishly between his cheeks and over his hole before pushing back in again. Will could feel the wetness spreading, down between his thighs, Hannibal’s pleasure huffed out hot over his slick skin. It was glorious, like being a cared-for sex toy, existing solely for Hannibal’s use. To not even touch him, just giving up parts of his body for Hannibal to play with, simply because he liked the way they smelled or tasted or felt against his mouth. Doing as he was told, watching Hannibal stroke himself to completion. For Will, it was more than enough. He felt wanted, needed, cherished even.

In a sudden, swift movement, Hannibal released his cock, pulling his hand away entirely. Will stared down at its flushed thickness, waiting. He heard a drawer open and sounds of things being moved around, then onto his stomach Hannibal placed a generously-sized silicone plug. Will groaned, understanding he was close to getting his reward if he could just keep his orgasm at bay. He watched as Hannibal coated the plug and his fingers with lube, then drew his knees up. Hannibal reached between his legs but Will’s view was obscured - all he could see were the movements of Hannibal’s hand as he stretched himself. Even that meant Will had to screw his eyes shut, in case it tipped him beyond his control. When he opened them again, it was just in time to see the plug being slid home.

The warm-wetness on his skin cooled slightly as Hannibal pulled his mouth away, to settle himself further down into the pillows. A hand reached up to grab Will’s collar, another was placed flat on Will’s stomach, and he was guided firmly back into a crouch, onto Hannibal’s waiting mouth. Will gasped as he realised what Hannibal wanted of him, his fingers curling over Will’s hips as he pushed his tongue back inside, the end of the leash held in one hand.

With care, Will rocked his hips slowly, rubbing himself against Hannibal’s tongue. Hannibal’s answering moan vibrated through him, and he gave Will a little slap to encourage him on. Will complied, riding him more forcefully, pushing himself back onto Hannibal’s tongue. The thick slick press of him was incredible, teasing him further and further open. Will groaned and shuddered, for a moment thinking himself lost when the cold metal chain of his leash, swinging wildly, grazed his nipple. He realised the only hope he had of claiming his reward was for Hannibal to come quickly.

Hannibal ceded control of Will’s movements entirely, so Will kept up the same pace. Instead, he looped the leash around his wrist and played with the plug a little, tugging it out and sliding it back in, working it in circles inside himself. With his other hand he jerked himself, hard and fast now, his tongue still stabbing up inside Will, face pressed between Will’s cheeks. Will panted, his chest heaved, his body chasing what his mind had forbidden him. He was so close, for it to plunge just a touch deeper was all it would take. He was almost ready to resign himself to defeat, when Hannibal gave a loud long groan and came in powerful spurts all over his chest. 

Will collapsed forward, his legs trembling. Everything shook, his desperation pulsating through him in time with his heartbeat. 

Underneath him, Hannibal shifted his legs stiffly. He patted Will’s ass gently. “Off,” he said, sounding wrecked. “You did very well indeed. So you may have your reward.”

On wobbly legs, Will swung himself off Hannibal and sank down gratefully onto the mattress. Hannibal plucked his key from the nightstand, and unlocked him with a twist of his wrist. His cock was freed easily; a throbbing red, sticky with his own fluids. Will could have cried with relief.

Hannibal stretched languidly, and parted his thighs for Will. Will moved between them and tried not to gape at the sight. He still had the plug inside him. Hannibal smiled lazily, but gasped when Will slid it gently free. It was sizable, perfect preparation for Will’s cock.

Just for a second, Will paused. Then he looked at Hannibal; his colour high, still gasping through the aftermath of his orgasm. He wet his lips, asking for silent permission.

Hannibal groaned, and nodded. He held the leash so it formed a taut line from his hand to Will’s throat. “Go on, don’t hold back. Enjoy yourself.”

A shiver of fresh desire thrilled through Will. He delayed no more, snatching up the lube to slick his cock, then pushed inside. He had to dig his nails into his own thigh, to distract himself from the overwhelming sensation. To go from nothing at all, straight to the glide of Hannibal’s tight heat, was almost impossibly good. He was left bent over, panting, just about holding himself together. There was little time to waste. He grabbed the meat of Hannibal’s hips and fucked into him deeply, once, twice, three times. Each movement tugged at the leash, reminding him anew of the collar around his neck. Hannibal’s spent cock twitched slightly, leaking a little more onto his stomach. Two more sharp quick thrusts was all it took, and Will was coming, emptying himself into Hannibal, in almost painful waves. 

When he struggled back to pull out, to collapse finally onto Hannibal’s chest, he was grinning with relief. Everything ached, he felt euphoric.

Hannibal was watching him, looking gratified. “And what do you say?” he asked.

Will laughed, rubbed his face into Hannibal’s chest hair. He felt and smelled good, animal, earthy. Smile turning deliberately naughty, he raised his eyes to Hannibal’s and said, “Why, thank you, _Sir_ , of course.”

*

As welcome as a good hot shower would have been, they were both too exhausted to do much more than rest for a while, pressed tightly together. A handful of tissues made the situation slightly more bearable. 

Will’s mind still reeled, over the things Hannibal had wanted. Over future possibilities. Growing too warm, he flopped away from Hannibal, onto his back.

“Goddammit,” he said. “When I tie you up, that’s what I’m doing to you. Without the cage.”

Hannibal turned his head towards him. “You’ve rather lost the element of surprise, by telling me.”

“I don’t need to surprise you,” Will said. “You loved it enough by itself.” The thought burned hotly at him - Hannibal’s tongue, searching him out with increasing desperation. Will would restrain him, so he couldn’t touch himself. See how he liked it. “And I’m going to make sure I enjoy myself fully.”

Hannibal drew Will’s hand to his mouth, and kissed it. “Planning your revenge already?”

“Not revenge,” Will said. “Just reciprocation.”

The teeth of Hannibal’s smile scraped over his skin, ending in a nip to his wrist. “Sounds very indulgent, either way.”

“Is that was this was about?” Will asked. “Reverse psychology?”

“It was a very open-ended experiment, not as targeted as all that,” Hannibal said. “What you would do if I took your immediate physical need out of the equation. But it was one of things I wondered about.”

“And the rest?”

“The rest was improvisation,” Hannibal said. “I responded to what I thought you needed.”

Will blinked, thought back to his need to be of service, to show Hannibal his devotion. To prove himself worthy. That hadn’t just been a game, he knew.

Hannibal patted him on the leg. “Shower.”

Grimacing, Will stumbled after him, into the bathroom.

*

This time Will washed his own hair, turning his face up into the spray, letting it rinse him clean. He felt lighter, looser. 

Hannibal’s arms circled his middle, pulled him back against his chest. “How do you feel now?”

“Good,” Will said. “Things feel uncomplicated. They usually do, after. Another thing you give me.”

“Do you feel worthy of my gifts now?” Hannibal asked. “Of my love?”

“Yeah,” said Will. “I think so.”

Hannibal seemed to catch the implied _for now_ , hanging unspoken at the end of the sentence. “Has it occurred to you that you may be depressed?” he said.

Will jerked away, reaching for the shower gel. “What? No,” he said. “I’m fine. I told you, I just get like this around the holidays.”

Calmly, Hannibal took the shower gel from him, and poured a little in his own hands. “It’s very common during the holiday period,” he said.

Will just stared at him, knowing his defensiveness had already spoken volumes. Did that make it true though? Wasn’t this just how he was? How he’d always been?

“How have you been sleeping?” Hannibal asked. “At home, when you’re not with me. Less than usual or more than usual?”

“More than usual,” Will answered, automatically. “But it’s winter. Doesn’t everyone?”

“Persistent feelings of worthlessness, and I imagine guilt also. Excessive sleeping. Increased irritability. Anxiety. Headaches?” Will nodded dumbly. “Fatigue?”

“Some,” Will said. He gave an empty laugh. “At least I haven’t gone off sex.”

Hannibal smiled. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just remember, the way you feel isn’t necessarily an accurate reflection of how things actually are.” Gently, he turned Will around and began soaping his back. “You need never be concerned about being worthy of me - you are everything I could possibly want.”

Will bowed his head, glad Hannibal couldn’t see his face. 

“I haven’t got you anything for Christmas,” he blurted out. “I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t know where to start, so I didn’t even try.”

The hands moving in soothing circles over his skin didn’t stop, but Will felt the pause and exhale of reigned-in impatience all the same. 

“Will,” Hannibal said. “Please understand me when I say you are enough on your own. You may give me things whenever you like, but there is never a compulsion to do so. No matter what the time of year.”

“It’s what people do,” Will said, miserably. “Isn’t it? To show each other they care.”

“Do you really think I won’t know that unless you buy me something and wrap it in shiny paper?” Hannibal said. “If you want to do something for me, drop these expectations. They belong to other people, not to us.”

Will turned into his embrace, and nodded again. “Okay. Sorry again.” He pulled back to look at Hannibal, tried not to wince at the concern on his face. “I really do love you, you know. Very much.”

“I know,” said Hannibal, kissing him softly. “And I you, _tesoro._ ”

They finished in the shower, both quiet now. Some of the weight had returned to Will’s shoulders but it felt more bearable. Perhaps the proximity to Christmas had been a heavier burden than he’d realised. Today was Sunday, it was only four days away. Hannibal’s party would take place on the Tuesday - he’d spied quantities of food in the larder which could only be for that.

His heart sank again at the thought.

*

Back in the bedroom, the discarded cock cage still lay on the bed, its separate pieces scattered across the wrinkled sheets. Hannibal saw how his glance caught on it.

“It’s yours,” Hannibal said. “You may do what you like with it.”

Will didn’t have to think very hard. “Put it back on,” he said.


	5. Chapter 5

Will made a last check of the things now packed into his car - his toolbox plus a few loose extras, a selection of hardware, sheets, cleaning supplies. Even with his early start, time was going to be tight. He couldn’t afford to come back for something he’d forgotten. 

There were just a couple of stops he had to make on the way. But before he left, he really should call Hannibal.

He eyeballed his phone, lying on the driver’s seat. The blank screen looked accusingly up at him. He sighed, and picked it up.

It rang a bit longer than usual. No doubt Hannibal was deep in preparations for his party that night.

“Hi,” Will said, when he answered. “Look, um.” He stopped.

“You don’t have to come,” Hannibal said. “I would rather you took care of yourself, and were rested for tomorrow.”

_Christmas Eve,_ thought Will. They were going to spend the evening together, the start of their first Christmas. But the amount of rest he got would depend on how today went.

“Won’t it mess with your plans?” he asked.

“Not at all,” Hannibal said. “I understand. Of course you don’t feel up to it.”

A wave of guilt washed over Will then, for allowing his _holiday depression_ to be used as an excuse. Should he confess his real reasons for not attending, or let Hannibal think that for now? But then his surprise would be spoiled.

“Thanks,” Will said. “I don’t really know what else to say. I feel like I should be there with you.”

“Letting me show you off?” Hannibal said. “There will be plenty of other opportunities. And anyway, your presence should be reserved for those most deserving of you.”

Will laughed at him. “Not for the hoi-polloi? Or a case of _do not exceed the stated dose_?”

“After we have settled in, I will host a dinner,” Hannibal said. “A small, intimate one. Only guests with a chance that you might take to them will be invited. An introduction to my new life. Our new life.”

“I see,” Will said. “Only the exalted few will get a glimpse behind the curtain. The rest can find their kicks elsewhere.”

“Society has a different draw for a bachelor,” Hannibal said. “I will no longer be one.”

Will dropped onto the driver’s seat, and looked back at his farmhouse, all rustic eaves, whitewash and chairs on the porch. At his feet, the muddy driveway poked up beneath a thin layer of frozen snow. The place had been good to him but he knew it was time to say goodbye. He needed something different now, just like Hannibal did.

“Um,” Will said. “You can’t see me. But I’m smiling like an idiot.”

“I’m only sorry I can’t be there to see it in person.”

“I should let you get back to it,” Will said. “I’ve got a few things to take care of today. But I’ll call you tomorrow, early.”

“I will be up,” Hannibal said. “With a very different kind of dinner to prepare.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Will said, finding he meant every word.

*

_“I know you're busy,”_ Will had said, the next morning. _“But can you spare a couple of hours? I've got something to show you.”_

Hannibal had agreed with barely a pause - the time was their own, he'd said. Everything was under control and what preparation there was left could easily be done that afternoon. 

Now Will fidgeted around the empty room, waiting for him. Despite all the work he'd put in, he couldn’t help but think it didn't look much.

The extension had doubled the space - when finished it would be perfect, exactly as Hannibal had wanted. Light and airy, it would be dappled with sun when the trees screening the house were in leaf, and opening out fully onto a broad terrace in the warmer months. There were separate formal dining and living rooms, but this is where they would spend most of their time, together. The kitchen was set back, deep into the room - a dark and dramatic stage made of rich and glowing French walnut, polished steel and marble. 

But the newly-built walls were unfinished, patched and blotchy still. The rest were scuffed with flaking, chipped paint. The air was musty and stale, though he'd cleared away the plastic sheeting protecting the new floor and removed as much dust as he could. Maybe if he got a fire going it would help. 

A shadow passed across the window as a figure took the temporary steps up to the door. The planned terrace hadn’t yet been built, and the old porch had been dismantled to make way for the building work. That, and the scaffolding, didn’t exactly make for a welcoming entrance.

He heard the front door opening and footsteps on bare floorboards. Will stayed where he was, trusting Hannibal’s instincts to tell him where to come.

All the doors downstairs had been temporarily removed so Hannibal simply walked straight in. His eyes fastened on Will, at first soft and curious, turning more serious once he sensed Will’s nervousness. Next, they glanced towards the kitchen, behind Will.

“Ta da?” Will said, biting his lip, as Hannibal’s feet drew him silently around Will and into the heart of the kitchen. 

“It's, er, ready to go,” Will said. “All plumbed and plugged in. And clean too.”

Hannibal didn’t answer. He was opening cupboards and drawers, gliding his fingers over the marble worktop, running the faucet. Then he stood back, still and grave as a statue.

Will couldn’t watch. He turned away, towards the glass walls at the other end of the room. Eventually they would look out over the gentle valley the house stood on the crest of, and the trees and hills beyond. Currently the view was of scaffolding poles, planks and more sheeting.

“Only if you like, of course,” he said, partly to the floor. “It was as near as I could get, to what you wanted.”

“You did this?” Hannibal asked. Will could still hear him moving around again, opening and closing things. “For me?”

“Yeah,” Will said. “The Christmas you couldn’t have. Well, sort of. I know it's not perfect.”

“All of it? How?”

“Not all on my own,” Will said, risking a peek over his shoulder. Hannibal had his back to him. “There wasn’t time. Wade lent me some of his guys, so we got it done in a couple of days. Even expensive kitchens come flat-pack, you know, it wasn’t that hard. The whole thing was just sitting in one of the back rooms, waiting to be built up.”

Hannibal drifted back to the gas burners in the centre, and flicked them into life.

“The furnace is working too, by the way. So there’s hot water and heating.”

The burners were switched off, and Hannibal went back to the sink.

“Be careful of the tiles though, the adhesive won’t be fully dry yet.”

“Will.” Hannibal took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling slowly, fluidly. “Please just come here.”

Will hesitated but went. When he touched Hannibal’s back, Hannibal swept round and enfolded Will in his arms, burying his face into Will’s hair. 

“What do you think?” Will asked, feeling much bolder now. “Want to have Christmas with me here?”

“ _Tesoro. Cuore mio_ ,” Hannibal breathed, before pulling back. He fixed Will with an intense, bright-eyed stare. “Yes, very much.”

A huge and relieved smile split across Will’s face. “Sorry it’s not gift-wrapped,” he said, as Hannibal kissed him. 

*

When Will arrived back from his final trip, it looked much more promising. The afternoon sun had dipped, drawing on the early dusk. In its deepening shadows, the room was now warm and cosy. A bed had been made - only Will’s mattress on the floor, but in the firelight and piled with his comforter, blankets, and pillows, it seemed almost romantic. The dogs had settled down after their earlier excited explorations, and were dozing in furry heaps nearby. Next to the kitchen stood a small table and a couple of chairs, recently rediscovered in Will’s upstairs rooms, waiting to be laid for dinner.

Best of all was Hannibal himself, in shirtsleeves and pristine white apron, surrounded by bowls and cutting boards and bubbling pans. Mounds of greenery patiently anticipated his attention, as did quantities of mushrooms, potatoes and fish.

“How does it feel?” Will asked, as he approached. “Cooking in your new kitchen?”

Hannibal smiled. “Even better than I imagined.”

“You look good in it,” Will said. “At home already. What are we having? Is that eel? And herrings?”

“We’re having _Kūčios_ ,” said Hannibal. “The Lithuanian evening meal served on Christmas Eve. So much of my life has been lived elsewhere and I keep very few traditions, but I make an exception for this one.” 

“Sounds interesting,” Will said. “Once I’m done with the tree I can help out.”

He found a spot for it on the other side of the fire, close to the dinner table. Decorating duties seemed to be more Hannibal’s thing but he was busy in the kitchen, and besides, his own impeccable tree laden with curious ornaments was back in Baltimore. At least Will had a box of decorations within easy reach and not in use. He would have to try his best and hope it sufficed.

When he was finished, he stood back to consider his efforts. Hannibal came over to join him.

“They don’t look too bad, considering,” said Will. “Next year our tree will be less rustic, but I suppose it suits the mood. I don’t really bother much with decorations. Or I should say, I didn’t, until now.”

Hannibal briefly slid an arm around his waist then stooped to examine them. “Some of these look old.”

“Yeah, they came from my dad’s. I remembered them from when I was a kid.”

“And the others?”

“Leftovers from various attempts at normalcy, I guess. When I was trying to do Christmas right.” Will looked at them with Hannibal’s eyes - cheap, painted glass and imperfectly-carved wood. Some were gaudy with faded glitter, obviously deriving from attempts to please other people. Relics from relationships ended long ago. “They’re not much.”

“But you kept them,” Hannibal said. 

“Throwing them away would mean facing up to my failures.”

“Or you weren’t ready to give up on the idea, perhaps. That Christmas we’re all supposed to have - in the company of our loved ones, celebrating the passing of another year and our continued survival. Conscious of the bleak winter ahead but, for a short moment in time, heedless of worries to come.”

Will snorted with laughter. “The American holiday is usually a lot more optimistic and a lot less pagan than that. At least on the surface.” He looked at Hannibal. “Your version is much better.”

“You prefer the honesty of admitting to life’s difficulties and imperfections,” said Hannibal. “Christmas is not a time for idealism. Hope, yes, but not self-deception.”

Will leaned into him. “I suddenly find myself with lots of hope,” he said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had so much.”

He turned towards him, bumping his nose against Hannibal's and brushing their lips together. Hannibal’s hands found their way up to Will’s neck, palms hot under his jaw, fingers curled into the ends of Will’s hair. Will held onto him tightly. It was a wrench to let go when Hannibal pulled back.

“Go get ready for dinner,” Hannibal said. “It will be waiting for you when you get back. And so will I.”

*

The upstairs bathrooms were still intact, spared for now from the planned re-modelling. So even if the cubicle was a bit small and rather peachy-pink, Will could at least have the pleasure of a hot shower. It had been a long and fairly dusty day, the third in a row. He had done what he could, given Hannibal what he could. Now it was time to ease up, to let events roll in like waves on a shore. Or try to, anyway.

He dried his hair, combed it neatly in the mirror, then sought out his good shirt and pants. Putting them on, he felt like a nervous bridegroom, about to embark upon the first meal of his new life. He stared at his reflection and told it firmly not to exaggerate, before heading back downstairs.

He found Hannibal lining up a string of dishes, scattering them with herbs and garnishes.

“Perfect timing,” Hannibal said. He unrolled his sleeves and fastened the cuffs, before putting his jacket back on. “If you want to be useful, you can pour yourself some wine, but that is all.”

Will smiled at him and went to take his place at the table. His collar was nestled on what must be the setting intended for him. He paused by his chair, just as Hannibal came over with the first series of dishes. There were two extra places laid. 

“Don’t worry, it will just be us,” Hannibal said. “There are no surprise guests.”

The battered old table had been covered with a fine linen tablecloth and decorated simply with candles, fir boughs and dried flowers. Will sat and poured himself some wine, as Hannibal finished loading the table with food.

“Would you like to wear it?” Hannibal asked, gesturing at the collar. “It seemed right to ask.”

He was right to, Will realised. Usually it was a given, whenever they were together, that Will wore his collar. But soon they would have even more opportunities at their disposal, different kinds of moments between them. There would be rushed mornings when Will was late, or evenings when he was tired. Or when Hannibal was. Their life was growing, and expanding. Separate threads twining together, into something larger but still unknown.

But one thing Will was sure of - he wanted to be Hannibal’s.

“Yeah,” Will said. “I would.”

Hannibal stood behind Will’s chair to buckle it on. The leather was soft now, moulded to the shape of his neck.

“Thank you,” Will said, as Hannibal bent to kiss the skin just above the collar. “For everything.”

When Hannibal took his seat, he sought Hannibal’s hand with his own. Hannibal squeezed it.

“And thank you,” he said. “Do you understand yet, what you have given me? Today is Kūčios, when families come together, an important ritual dinner. And here you are, with me, in the home you have made for us.”

Will blushed, a little abashed. “It was always going to be our home,” he said. “I just hurried a part of it along.”

“Every time I look at those tiles I will think of you warning me about the adhesive,” Hannibal smiled. “Desperately trying to downplay your efforts.”

“I wanted it to be-”

“A worthy gift,” Hannibal interrupted. “And it is, it has your hand all over it.”

“I’m glad you think so,” Will said, then shook his head. “You have been just as involved as me, in making it our home.”

“I have met with architects and designers, but you are here most days checking up on its progress. Making sure it’s up to scratch.”

“I live closer,” Will shrugged. “And I know enough about this stuff.”

“And you would love to do it all yourself, if you could,” Hannibal said.

“If you would let me,” Will said, smirking a little. “But, I know, it would take too long. You won that argument, I remember it distinctly. In fact, before we go over it again, you’d better tell me more about this ritual dinner.”

Hannibal smiled, and kissed his hand before releasing it. “People make every effort to come home for Kūčios,” he said. “Everyone must be together, including those who have died. That is what the place settings are for - our lost loved ones.”

“Mischa,” Will said, after a moment’s pause. “And… my dad?”

“Yes,” Hannibal said. “If you want to, of course. Before we eat, we will light a candle in their places. Usually only for those who have died during the course of the year. But I choose to remember Mischa, every Kūčios. It was her favourite time.”

Stuck in his own holiday troubles, Will realised he had overlooked that Hannibal had cause to find them difficult too. She had died just before spring, found drowned in the lake. He remembered Hannibal telling him the thaw had been late that year - if it had not, she would never have stumbled onto the thin ice at its edge.

But instead of feeling guilty for his forgetfulness, Will felt a surge of kinship. They weren’t that different, not really. Both of them lacked close family, and both of them had chosen to distance themselves from their roots.

“It is supposed to be a quiet and solemn occasion,” Hannibal said. “But she was always excitable, unable to sit still.”

In Will’s mind, the empty place setting opposite took on a different shape - a headstrong young girl, blonde, with Hannibal’s rich hazel eyes, looked back at him. Hannibal had sat with her memory every Christmas Eve, presumably alone, until tonight. If Will looked to his left, would he find his father there? Tired and worn, but proud too, hair combed and in his best shirt. Exactly like Will was.

“Let’s not be solemn then,” Will said, blinking his back tears. “Light the candles, and we can begin.”

A match was struck. Hannibal lit the first candle and passed it to Will for the other. As the wick caught and flared, Will caught a remembered glimpse of his father’s shrewd look and laughed.

“I was just wondering what he’d make of you,” he explained. “Of all this. He’d probably tell me he’d seen it coming. Like a fancy European boyfriend would explain all the trouble I used to get into at school.”

“I will choose to take that as a compliment,” Hannibal said, and Will laughed even more.

Hannibal began to serve, explaining each dish in turn. There were plenty of them, much simpler than his usual style. Some of the herrings had been baked whole, some had been turned into a rough pâté. There was smoked eel with beets and horseradish, freshly baked bread, and a variety of salads and grilled vegetables.

“Meat, dairy and eggs are not allowed,” Hannibal said. “Nothing from warm-blooded animals - we make peace with animals both domestic and savage this evening. Though the dishes are not strictly traditional.”

“I like it,” Will said. “A feast with restraint and elegance.”

“I thought you might,” Hannibal said. “No bacchanalian display for you. There must be some grit to create the pearl of your pleasure.”

“That kind of talk is why you’re the fancy European boyfriend,” Will said. “And less about your grit and my pearls at the dinner table, there are children present. In spirit, at least.”

This time it was Hannibal who laughed. “Until after dinner, then,” he said, before toasting Will and his new kitchen.

*

Afterwards, Will suggested they look over the rest of house together, as Hannibal had only visited once since it was bought. The downstairs had been stripped but the shape of the new rooms could be seen, far more spacious than before. Upstairs looked much the same, except for the extra space created by the extension.

“There’s a few walls to move around up here still,” Will said. “It could have been done already but getting the roof on was more important.” 

He showed Hannibal the master bedroom and paced out where the new bathroom and dressing room would be. Hannibal watched, amused, with the blind trust of the rich that everything would happen exactly as he wanted, even without Will’s interventions.

“The staircase will go here,” Will said, standing in the corner of the room. “Want to see the new attic?”

Until the staircase could take them there, in a graceful and discreet spiral, the only access was by a pull-down ladder. It was dust-strewn and dirty but worth it to see Hannibal’s satisfaction at what he found. The building works had continued all the way up to the roof, pushing the slanted eaves out to turn a small attic room into a large and characterful space. Easily enough for a generously-sized bed, lots of storage and a separate shower.

“Beautiful,” Hannibal said. “I can see us here. Frequently.”

“I’ve told them just to do the basic fit-out,” Will said. “If we need anything more specific-” he glanced at Hannibal, “-I will do it.”

Hannibal smiled at him. “I enjoy the idea of you toiling up here, creating your perfect playroom.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Will said. “I’m not explaining to Wade why we need so many heavy-duty, load-bearing hooks.”

“You could say it was for a hammock,” Hannibal said, hands in pockets, inspecting one of the new sky-lights.

“On the wall? No, I don’t think so,” Will said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Hannibal came up behind Will and pulled him back against his chest. “My good boy,” he murmured, into Will’s ear. “So clever. You’ve done so well already. I know it will be perfect.”

Will sagged back against him. “That’s what you think this is about?”

“It is in part,” Hannibal said. “You’re a classic, though secret, high-achiever. Except, from a young age, you only received unwanted attention, never the recognition you sought and deserved.”

“Shit,” Will said. “I hoped I might be more interesting than that.”

“No need to worry, you’re forgetting the unique blend of neuroses and disorders you’re seasoned with,” said Hannibal, his hands beginning to wander over Will’s chest.

Will laughed. “Stop teasing,” he said, taking hold of them, pressing Hannibal’s arms tightly around himself. “So, are you just saying that stuff to make me feel better?”

There was a silence, a short one. “I do like giving you what you need,” Hannibal said. “More than I ever thought likely of myself. But I enjoy it for its own sake as well - it allows me a different kind of dominance over you.”

“Good,” Will said. “Because, yeah. I like it too.”

He felt Hannibal’s lips curve against his ear. Hannibal’s hands started to move again, this time determinedly down to his waistband. Will didn’t stop them, just leaned back and let Hannibal take his weight.

“You’ve taken such good care of me,” Hannibal said. “Now it’s my turn.”

He was unbuttoned and unzipped, and his pants slipped open, exposing his briefs. Will didn’t need to look to know Hannibal’s hand was hovering over him, surprised and maybe a little uncertain.

“I didn’t take it off,” Will said. “Except for, you know, necessities.”

Hannibal’s fingers drew over the firm ridge of cage, as if checking he hadn’t imagined it. 

“You put it there,” Will continued. “So it seemed like it should stay, until you decided otherwise.”

He heard Hannibal swallow, once, before speaking.

“Bed,” he said. “I want you in bed. Now.”

*

He had Will strip completely and lay down on top of the blankets. At first Hannibal stood over him, just looking, deciding what course of action to take.

“You really didn’t expect this,” Will said, as Hannibal began to undress too. “Why did you think I asked you to put it back on me?”

“A continuation of our game,” Hannibal said. “I didn’t think you would take to it quite so thoroughly.”

Will smiled, and drew a leg up to make room for Hannibal. “It’s only been a couple of days, not weeks. Don’t get ahead of yourself. Ow.” Hannibal had leaned over and bit his nipple hard, a rebuke for his smart mouth. “The key,” he said. “I want to you to keep it.”

Hannibal looked up sharply. “Where is it now?”

“Pants pocket,” Will said. “I want you to tell me when to wear the cage and when to take it off. Maybe we only do this a couple of times a year, I don’t know. But what you said, about my sexuality being a gift. I want that. Permanently.”

Hannibal stared at him. 

“I don’t even have to wear it all that much,” Will said. “If you have the key, everything we do, everything _I_ do, will be with your tacit permission.”

“ _Tesoro_.” Hannibal wet his lips. “This is the second time today you’ve left me almost speechless.”

“I can’t pretend I don’t enjoy it,” Will grinned, settling back into the pillows. “You’re going to have fun with this, aren’t you? The amount of control you can have over me... Question is, what are you going to do right now?”

Smiling, Hannibal crawled up the bed to loom over Will on all fours. “Good boys deserve a reward,” he said. “But afterwards I’m going to think very seriously about your manners.”

Will laughed. “Please don’t give me the cane, Sir,” he smirked. “I don’t enjoy it _at all._ ”

A little helpless growl escaped Hannibal. He slipped his finger through Will’s collar ring and tugged.

“What, really?” Will said, with a touch of genuine surprise. He’d only been joking. “Okay, we can do that, if you like. Later.”

“Later,” Hannibal promised, and slipped away to find the key.

He unlocked Will quickly and, with little preamble, slid his mouth over Will’s cock. Will stifled his cry, so as not to wake the dogs, and gave himself over to the pleasure of Hannibal’s mouth. It hadn’t been very long since his last orgasm and, with the work he’d put into the house, there had been little opportunity anyway, but now it felt like an age. Luckily Hannibal seemed to be as desperate to hurry things along, if not more so, covering his fingers with lube and pressing them inside Will. 

Will slapped his hand over his mouth and worked himself back against Hannibal’s hand.

“Fuck, yes,” he whispered. “God, I’ve missed this.”

Hannibal yanked Will down the bed by his hips, and knelt over him, slicking his cock. He leaned over Will’s chest and planted a kiss on it. “I like it when you ask nicely,” he said, “Good boys say please.”

Will took the hint. “Yes, yes - please fuck me,” he said, stretching his arms out above his head. Hannibal lifted his legs, so he wrapped them around Hannibal’s waist, just as Hannibal pushed inside with a groan.

Will gasped and gripped the edge of the mattress. Hannibal rolled his hips, mercilessly slow, fingers digging hard into Will’s thigh. Will could move very little but tried to encourage him on with little rocks of his pelvis, chasing the full slide and stretch of his cock.

Hannibal leaned forward, releasing Will’s thighs to cage him in with his arms instead. “Did you want something more?” he asked. “Is this not enough?”

“Please,” Will said, meaning it more this time. “Fuck me, hard, I want feel you.”

Hannibal thrust up into him once, making Will groan. “Like this? Greedy, insatiable thing. But you have been very good.” 

“Yes, please, come on,” Will said. Then, with sudden inspiration, “Please Sir, fuck me?”

Will saw the flex of tension ripple through Hannibal’s shoulders before he had even moved. He wrapped his fingers tightly around Will’s wrists, pinning them to the bed with his full weight, and used it as leverage to fuck into him properly.

“God yes,” Will managed, wrapping his legs back around Hannibal’s waist. 

All speech dissolved into wordless moans and grunts, broken with occasional open-mouthed kisses. Will bucked and strained against him as much as he could, enjoying the sensation of being held down and taken. He’d have bruises the next day, and now it sounded like he was going to have stripes to look forward to as well. When he came, it was at the touch of Hannibal’s hand.

“Good boy,” Hannibal breathed, smearing come over Will’s lips and licking them clean as he came inside him.

*

Will stirred and, finding himself somewhere unfamiliar and his limbs stiff, woke up completely. The room was very dark, even though the windows were uncovered. The only light was from the cold winter moon and the sluggish embers still burning in the grate. It must still be night, or maybe very early morning.

Beside him, Hannibal stretched, then reached for him.

“We fell asleep,” Will said. “It wasn’t even late.”

“We seem to be awake now,” Hannibal said, checking his watch. “It’s four in the morning. How about something to eat?”

Will stoked the fire and got another couple of logs burning, while Hannibal moved around in the dark of the kitchen. The dogs were still mostly asleep, and Will preferred to keep them that way until it got light.

“We’ll need a proper breakfast later,” Hannibal said, as he returned to bed. “So instead here’s something more suited both to the spirit of the season and the unnatural hour.”

Will took a steaming mug of coffee and a plate from him, which he balanced on his knee. On it was a slab of Christmas cake.

“It’s not really an hour for eating,” Hannibal said. “But if one must, it should be something sweet, starchy and substantial.”

Will tried to hide his smile, then wondered why he was bothering. “Hannibal?” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Thank you so much to everyone for being lovely about this series, it was great fun to return to <3
> 
> (Also, to any Lithuanians reading, I hope you forgive me any major errors regarding Kūčios but I thought, whatever is traditional, Hannibal is going to do exactly as he wants anyway because he's Hannibal :) )

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk Hannibal at me on [my tumblr](http://weconqueratdawn.tumblr.com/)


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